i lost a world that other day
by dee-thequeenbee
Summary: When Regina finally arrives in her hotel room and opens her suitcase, she discovers that it has been accidentally switched. Her most treasured belongings are in there, so she plans a date with the man who took it - will he be able to discover her world? An Outlaw Queen AU, set in Venice.
1. I Lost a World that other Day

_A/N: This was a prompt from tumblr, many thanks to SometimesAngryBlackWoman for finding it!_

 _"We have the same luggage and didn't check the tags before we left so I'm calling you to exchange suitcases (and you also had some interesting things in your bag so I'm excited to meet you)"_

 _All mistakes are mine!_

 _... enjoy! And let me know what you think :)  
_

* * *

 ** _I lost a world that other day / has anybody found?_**

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Venice Airport. Local time is 5PM and the temperature is 10° C, 50° F. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign."

Regina stopped listening and let out a huff of annoyance. It had been a hell of a flight, and all she wanted was to get to her hotel room and take a shower. She kept fidgeting with her phone, waiting for the metallic voice to say she could turn it on. She already missed her family – she had still in mind Henry's face when he had understood that she was going away, at the gate. He was only four years old, and Emma had had to drag him away to prevent him from following her.

" _I'll come back soon, sweetheart"  
"I'll miss you, Aunt Regina," he had said, hugging her.  
"Come on, kid, let's leave your aunt to her flight, shall we?" had said her best friend Emma, taking his hand.  
"But… how much time will pass?" he had asked, his lower lip trembling.  
"It's only a couple of months," she tried to comfort him, fighting to keep the tears at bay. For Henry, there wasn't a clear concept of that duration.  
"Mom, why can't I go with Aunt Regina?" he asked to Emma, and she caressed his head, exchanging a look with the other woman.  
"She's going in Italy to work, kid," she answered.  
"But I wanna go too!"  
"Listen, Henry," Regina lowered down to look at him in the eyes. "I promise it will pass so fast you won't notice I'm gone, okay? And guess what," she continued, tipping his nose. "When I come back I'll bring you a gift!"  
He didn't answer, but threw his arms around her neck. She sniffed slightly, untangling from his embrace, and she got up.  
"Go," she urged Emma, and the blonde nodded, picking up Henry from the ground. She turned around, but couldn't avoid hearing Henry's screams – Put me down! I wanna go too! Put me down! – _

She shook her head from the unpleasant memory and unfastened her belt, finally turning on the phone. She wrote a quick text to Emma – _Landed! I'll call u later_ – and she stood up, taking her bag and her coat. She had never liked this part – the exit from the plane, with everyone pushing and trying to leave before the others. She followed the crowd towards the gates, rolling her eyes when two kids passed running.

They arrived in a large room, where the conveyor belts were, and they all stopped there, waiting for their suitcases. She took her phone from her pocket and scrolled her list of contacts. One ring, two rings, and Emma picked up.

" _Hey there, Italian lady, how was the flight?_ "

"I feel like shit," she complained. "How's Henry?" she bit her lower lip, keeping an eye on the belt which had started working.

" _Honestly? He cried all the way back from the airport, but I let him eat all the Rocky Road you bought yesterday, and now he's better,_ " Emma answered. " _He says he'll start a countdown for your return_ "

Regina felt her heart tighten – she loved Henry as if he was her son, and she was his godmother, for heaven's sake, she missed him already – but tried to ignore the pain.

"Don't spoil him too much," she warned. She heard Emma chuckle and answer " _Got it, mama bear_ " before she spotted her suitcase on the bell. She quickly walked towards it, grabbed the handle and lifted it. "Honestly, I don't know if leaving you two alone –" she placed it on the ground and started pushing, the wheels doing all the job " – would be considered as an act of child neglect"

" _You tell me, madam attorney_ "

"Very original" she answered. "I'll call you later, okay? I need to get a cab"

" _Okay, have fun_ " laughed Emma before closing the call.

Regina dragged the suitcase towards the exit and, thankfully, there were two or three cars waiting there. She randomly chose one, and after a few words with the taxi driver – she really needed to learn some Italian, because surviving there for two months with English and Spanish was out of the question, and the locals didn't seem to make efforts in that sense – she finally relaxed against the car seat.

She pulled out her phone and called Gold, her boss, to schedule the meeting for the following day – apparently, he wasn't in Venice yet, and that would leave her a free day to visit, or just to sleep and recover from the jet lag.

§§§

 _Thank God_ , she thought one hour later, opening the door of her hotel room. _Thank God, a bed!_

The room was quite large and clean – obviously she would have needed an apartment for the next months, but for the first days Gold had agreed to pay a hotel room for all the team. She placed the suitcase on the bed and went straight for the shower. Her worries seemed to fade under the hot cascade, and the hotel's soap and shampoo let out a pleasant apple scent all over the bathroom. There was also a hair dryer, and she managed to transform her messy hair in something decent.

Wrapping a towel around her body, she reached for her phone and read a text from Mal – _I'm landing in Venice tomorrow at 11AM, lunch is on me_ – then she turned towards her suitcase and opened it.

 _Shit_.

This wasn't her suitcase.

The first thing she noticed about it was the absolute mess. A pair of shoes was packed in a corner, along with some ties and a tux. She guessed that was the tidy part, because the rest was an enormous ball of stuff and tangled clothes. She frowned, lifting a shirt – clearly the man had never picked up a flat iron. Under the shirt, there was a book for children, with vivid letters forming the title, _Adventures of Little Pip_. Her lips curved in a soft smile. She imagined a little boy or a little girl giving the book to their daddy to keep him company. Next to the book, a blue swimsuit and a brown leather belt. She placed these things above a pile of shirts, to discover two books, _Fight Club_ and _Poems_ by Emily Dickinson. She felt even more intrigued. Who was this messy father with a conflicting taste in books and a passion for swimming? She opened _Fight Club._ There was a date from ten years before, and as she suspected, a dedication: _To my love, your Marian_.

 _So he's married_ , she thought. At the middle of the book, between the pages, there was a very unusual bookmark, and she lifted her eyebrows in a disapproving way. The bookmark was a flight ticket from Venice to New York, with a date of the following month. And he had left it there in the suitcase, without keeping it safe. Shaking her head, she placed the book back in the middle of the mess, and checked the tag hanging from the handle.

 _Robin Locksley_ , there was written, a New York address and a telephone number. She picked up her phone and dialed the number, but before she could press the call button, the screen lightened up with the very same number. She pressed _Accept the call_ and answered.

"Hello?"

§§§

When Robin had opened the suitcase, it had been the icing on the cake of a very bad day. First, the flight from New York to Venice had been long and boring. He hadn't seen his son since two weeks and he had fought with Marian during all the way from the airport to his hotel, and bless those couples that divorced and stayed friends, because they didn't seem to get along, not even after two years of separation. And then…

 _How could I have been so stupid not to check the tag before leaving?_ he thought. Of course, at that moment he had been busy at fighting with his ex-wife about their son – the only good thing she had given him.

The suitcase looked exactly like the one he owned – the one that was now somewhere in the world, hopefully in Venice, hopefully with the tag still attached to the handle.

But inside, it was an entirely different story. It clearly belonged to a woman – a very tidy woman, to begin with. Piles of silken shirts were folded next to a blue vanity case, and there were some skirts and dresses in a corner. He lifted a black towel and discovered three pairs of high heels – _Jesus, how can someone walk on these things?_ – and a hair dryer. There were three books under the heels, _Emma_ by Jane Austen, _Shining_ by Stephen King, and _Carol_ by Patricia Highsmith. He smiled slightly – a woman with such different tastes was without any doubt worth of a meeting. Next to the books, a diamond toy tiara, carefully enveloped in a piece of paper. But it was a roll of paper held together by a red ribbon which attracted his attention.

He freed it to open the paper. It was a drawing – a portrait, which depicted a woman and a man looking at each other with wide smiles on their faces. In a corner, a little scribble in black ink: _Regina & Daniel_, with the signature of the painter ( _Mary M. B._ ) and a date from three years before. He looked again at the woman in the portrait. It was in black and white, so he couldn't guess the color of her eyes, but she was undoubtedly beautiful. _They_ were beautiful, and clearly in love. He thought for a second _When did I look at Marian with loving eyes for the last time?_ and shook his head. He carefully wrapped the paper up again, tying the ribbon, and he put the roll back at its place.

He lifted some silken bras, resisting the temptation of indulging in that particular part of the luggage, and discovered a silver frame on the bottom of the suitcase, surrounded by towels and some t-shirts. There was a photo in the middle of the frame – a blonde woman with long hair, a young boy who was maybe three years old, and at his left, her arm wrapped around the kid, the same woman of the portrait. They were smiling, all wearing summer clothes, the blonde woman with a straw hat.

He smiled – they seemed to be happy, and yet, in the brunette woman's eyes there was a shadow of sadness. He placed the frame in the suitcase and finally took his phone. The handwriting on the tag was elegant and clear, and he read _Regina Mills_ , a Boston address and her number. He dialed it, and lifted the phone to his ear. After a second, he heard her voice.

§§§

"Hello?" she answered, biting her lip.

" _Regina Mills?_ " asked a rich voice.

"Yes"

" _I'm Robin Locksley_ ," continued the voice. " _I believe you have something that belongs to me_ "

"I could say the same thing," she replied. "You should have checked the tag before leaving"

" _Well, the same holds for you_ "

"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, are you still in Venice?"

" _Positive_ ," she heard him say. " _Where do you want to meet?_ "

"Are you asking me out for a date?" she asked and god, she was already flirting.

" _Well, let's say your suitcase is asking mine out_ ," she heard him chuckle.

"I'll have to make sure they don't misbehave, then," she laughed. "Anyway, I don't know where"

" _Well, luckily I do_ " he answered. " _Since it's seven and I'm starving, what do you say if we meet for dinner?_ "

"How do I know you're not a maniac?" she protested.

" _There's only one way to find out… besides, if you want your stuff back you don't have a choice, milady_ ," he mocked her.

"Cheeky," she said. "How will you recognize me?"

" _Simple_ ," he replied. " _Tell the waiter my name and he'll lead you_ "

"Okay" she scoffed. "So, where and when?"

She scribbled the address he dictated and she checked her watch – she had half an hour to get there. "See you later, thief of suitcases," she heard him laugh before hanging up.

§§§

Robin was sitting at their table, watching the clock on the wall and fidgeting with the white napkin. She was five minutes late – he hoped she could find the place even if she didn't know Venice. Then, he spotted her – she was following a waiter, who was bringing the suitcase. She was wearing a black coat and a blue velvet, knee-length dress, along with another pair of those killer heels. _She's even more beautiful in person_ , he thought. He stood up as they approached the table, and she thanked the waiter who placed the suitcase next to the other. He smiled and said he would return later for the orders. Then he left, and they were staring at each other. Robin offered his hand and she took it.

"Nice to meet you," she said, and her voice was even better than it was over the phone. He smiled, and bowed his head mockingly. "Your majesty," he said, and she looked at him, puzzled.

"What?"

"Well," he chuckled, motioning for her to sit. "I doubt you resisted to the temptation of ransacking my personal belongings"

She blushed, but continued to stare at him. "I still don't understand what you mean"

"I am not afraid to admit that I did" he told her honestly. "And I came across a certain tiara…"

Her lips curved in a smile. "That would be my godson's doing," she explained. "He found out that my name means _queen_ and the tiara was a gift for my birthday"

"A very clever boy," he nodded. "So… did you?"

"What?"

"Get a look between my things"

"Well, yes, I did" she admitted, lifting her chin. "How can you blame me?"

"I don't," he answered. " _Curioser and curioser_ , aren't we?"

She laughed, her eyes bright, and finally he could see their brown shade, missing from the portrait.

"It's a bit early to use a quote from _Alice in Wonderland_ , thief," she replied. The waiter suddenly approached to the table and Robin realized they didn't even think about the menu.

"Oh, well, I'll have a plate of spaghetti and some salad, thanks," he said, eager to return to their conversation. Regina smiled at the waiter and handled him the menus, saying "Same for me". He ordered also a bottle of red wine and the man nodded, walking away quickly.

"I'll offer the wine," he said, and she looked at him, raising a brow. "It's only fair after I took your suitcase"

"Well, I took yours," she replied.

"Never mind," he dismissed, waving his hand. "So, you have a godson… what's his name?"

"Henry," she answered, a fond smile softening her face. "And from that little book… I think you have a son, haven't you?"

"Roland," he confirmed. "He's with his mother now" he diverted his gaze from her to thank the waiter, who was pouring red wine into their glasses. When he was gone, he saw that Regina was biting her lip, as if she didn't know how to tell him something.

"What is it?" he asked, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip.

"I might have overstepped," she confessed. "I know we both have looked into the suitcases, but… well, I saw the dedication written on the first page of _Fight Club_ and – "

"Don't worry," he interrupted her. "What I had with Marian ended years ago," he continued. "And about our relationship I follow the first rule of the _Fight Club_ "

"…you do not talk about _Fight Club_ " she ended. "It's a good book" she added, drinking her wine.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the _Fight Club_ type, judging from your books," he chuckled.

"Oh my god," she said, covering her forehead with a hand. "The books I have in the suitcase are a joke," she explained. "My best friend picked them for me before I left… She chose _Shining_ because she says, and I quote, I don't have the guts to finish a book like that," she said sarcastically. "Then _Carol_ , because she wants to drop Henry off at her boyfriend's and see the movie during a girls night… but she knows I don't like to see a movie without having read the book first… and _Emma_ , because she said _In this way you'll remember to call us every time you see the book around,_ " she laughed.

"So the blonde in the photo is your best friend and she's called Emma… and she's Henry's mother?" he asked, deeply amused by her explanation.

"Well, aren't you a proper Sherlock," she sassed.

"British attitude," he nodded. Then, the waiter brought their food, and they spent a few quiet minutes savoring the dishes.

"Anyway, you mock me for my books," she said, cleaning her lips with her napkin. "But… Emily Dickinson?"

"Hey, just because I'm a guy, doesn't mean I can't like poetry," he defended himself.

"A sentimental, then," she said. "Not my field"

"Says the woman with a portrait in the suitcase," he chuckled, and a shadow darkened her eyes.

§§§

It was going well – her idea to put a dress and some clothes in her bag, just in case, had been a blessing, because she couldn't go to dinner with the same pantsuit she had worn all day. The restaurant was nice, the _man_ was nice – and polite, and those blue eyes, and the continuous flirting… she honestly couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy about making a mistake. She had been staring at him since the beginning of the dinner – glad that he seemed to reciprocate the attraction. And if this was going to end in a bedroom… she wasn't complaining at all.

 _At least I'll have something fun to tell Mal, tomorrow_ , she had thought.

And then… he had to ruin everything. The portrait.

"I…" she breathed, searching for words. "Did you see that too?"

His face saddened, and he looked guilty. "Regina, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"It's fine," she said, closing her eyes for a second. "You couldn't have imagined – "

"No, it's not," he stated. "I've upset you"

"It's fine," she repeated. "Daniel… he died two years ago"

"Oh" he nodded. She stayed silent, and suddenly he reached for her hand. "I truly am sorry" he said again. "There was a reason if it was tied with a ribbon, after all"

"I've always travelled with that portrait," she smiled bitterly. "The original photo was taken in Paris, and then a friend of mine managed to make a drawing out of it… it's one of the things I love most"

"I can see why" he said.

"But it shouldn't bother me anymore," she continued. "It's been two years"

"You're allowed to grief for as long as you like, Regina," he affirmed, looking at her. "But after a while you should consider… to move on. I mean, he'll always be a part of you, but the best gift you could give him is to live"

"I know," she whispered. And she did know it. Everyone had kept telling her the same words since Daniel was dead. And his last words… thinking about it made her heart ache.

I love you _, she had whispered, while he was dying in her arms, the piercing sound of sirens all around them._ Then love again _, he had answered, before closing his eyes forever._

She had to thank her family for never letting her go. Emma, and Henry, and Mary Margaret, and Mal, they had always been there. She knew what Emma would have said, seeing her right now. Probably something like _Oh, for heaven's sake, Regina, you're in Venice, alone, with a guy you like, and he's free, and he's a father, and he's hot, could you please let go your dark thoughts and, just for once, live in the present?_

She shook her head, because the Emma in her head was right.

"I feel like I've killed the mood," she smiled, and he squeezed slightly her hand before letting it go.

"Well, I know how to make you feel better" he exclaimed. He got up, and exchanged a few words with the waiter. Regina checked her phone and smiled at a photo of Henry that Emma had sent – _I should really call them tomorrow_ , she thought. Then she read two texts from Mal – _Hope you're enjoying your first Italian evening!_ and _Tell me you're not in your hotel room already asleep_ – and placed the phone back in her purse. She lifted her head when she heard someone approaching. Robin offered his hand and she got up.

"I paid the bill," he told her, lifting a hand when she started to protest. "Consider it a peace offer"

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, following him. Then she turned towards the table. "But… our suitcases?"

"You can give the name of the hotel to the restaurant staff and they'll bring that back for you," he answered. "Let's hope they read the tag"

"And where do you want to go next?" she asked, lifting her eyebrow playfully.

"I'm afraid that's a surprise" he smiled.

§§§

They got out of the restaurant in the crisp winter weather, walking arm in arm. She found out she liked it. She liked the unpredictability of that evening, of the strange course of events that had led them to meet. They walked for a while, without talking. Then they turned a corner, and St Mark's Square was suddenly extending in front of them. It was almost eleven, a few people still around, but she was struck by the beauty of that place.

"Do you like it?" he asked, and she turned her gaze to meet his eyes.

"Of course," she answered. "But if this is your surprise, I'm afraid you can't take all the credit"

"This was the appetizer," he affirmed. "The first dish is in here," and he motioned towards a little, warm bar. They entered, and the heat hit her like a wave.

"Now, if you please go sit, milady," he said, trying not to laugh, "I'll go and take your surprise, but you must promise me not to peek"

"Pinky promise" she laughed, and left his hand to go and sit to a table in a corner, her back to the counter of the bar. She waited there a few minutes, resisting the temptation of watching him, her gaze fixed on a painting on the wall – a panoramic view of Venice during the Carnival.

Then she heard a noise behind her and she turned to watch him, approaching with two enormous cups of ice cream. She let out a laugh as he placed them in front of her and sat next to her.

"I thought you were the Earl Grey type," she teased, raising the spoon, as he arched his eyebrows. "It would be a waste, being in Italy without trying ice cream," he affirmed.

"I most certainly agree" she replied, trying a bite, and oh, it was like a cold heaven melting on her tongue.

"Oh, wow," she sighed, closing her eyes. When she reopened them, he was staring at her with a strange expression.

"What is it?" she gulped, and he shook his head. "It's just…" he began, and she locked her eyes with his. "…you're beautiful" he finally said, and she felt her cheeks burn. She diverted her gaze, trying to hide a smile. "Your ice cream is melting," she warned him, and he finally started to eat, but didn't stop to look at her. The game was becoming intense, and they continued their exchange of looks between spoons of ice cream, until she finally got up, cleaning her mouth – her legs were painfully sore.

"This one is on me," she proclaimed, and rushed towards the counter before he could stop her. She quickly paid, and then she turned, finding him in front of her with her coat opened.

"Thank you" she said, sliding into the warm fabric, and with only one look, he laced their fingers, and opened the door, guiding her outside. They walked for a few minutes, and Regina felt her hand sweating, but he didn't let go. She saw her hotel around the corner – _was it the end, already?_

"Well…" she started, a bit unsure. "I've had the appetizer and the first dish," they stopped in the middle of a little bridge which united two banks. "I was wondering what the dessert could be…"

"Let's see," he said. He moved closer, until their bodies were pressed one against the other, and cupped her cheek. "Would you terribly mind if I kissed you right now?"

She leaned on his hand, and smiled softly. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I've met you a few hours ago" he answered. "But I feel like I've known you for so much longer…"

"And why do you want to kiss me?" she continued, looking up at him.

"Because life is short, Regina Mills, and you are hot" he said. She smiled and lifted her hands to grab the collar of his jacket. "Don't think I can't recognize a stolen quote when I see one, thief," she said, looking right in his eyes, then she crashed her lips with his, and it was sweet, and strong, and _oh_ so nice, and they continued to kiss, in the middle of a bridge in Venice, and she wondered how many couples had kissed in that exact spot, and his hands were in her hair, and he tasted like chocolate and vanilla and wine, and this was right, this was living again…

Then they parted, and she smiled, his hand pulling her closer, and she buried her head on his shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, one breathing the other in, just breathing.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She placed a kiss on his lips. "You'll stay in Venice for one month, is that right?" she asked.

"Yes" he answered. "How did you know?"

"You shouldn't leave your flight ticket in your suitcase," she smiled. He laughed, passing a hand between her hair. "I'm so glad we exchanged the luggage"

"Me too" she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Regina" he whispered after they parted, and it was beautiful how he said her name. "I'd like to take this slowly, if it's okay with you" he continued. She just listened, staying silent. "Given that we'll stay here for a while, there's no need to rush, what do you say?"

"Fine by me" she agreed, and the kiss she began was more like making out this time. Their tongues danced together, same rhythm, same motion, and he parted their lips to place his own on her neck, holding her by her waist, and she closed her eyes, leaning on the balcony of the bridge…

"This isn't taking it slowly" she breathed, and he chuckled against her skin, lifted his head.

"I promise I'll be a gentleman from now on," he affirmed. "But only if you agree to see me again tomorrow," he smiled.

"Deal," she answered. "I guess this is where we part ways then?"

"Until tomorrow, yes," he said, and she loosened the embrace reluctantly. He began to walk slowly, and she did too, until he turned around the corner. She smiled, entering in the hotel, and she felt a silly dizziness on all the way to her room. Her suitcase was already there, and she opened it.

In the middle, there was another copy of _Poems_ by Emily Dickinson, with a tiny piece of paper as a bookmark. She opened it, and read the poem signed.

 _I lost a World - that other day!_ _  
_ _Has Anybody found?_ _  
_ _You'll know it by the Row of Stars_ _  
_ _Around its forehead bound._

 _A Rich man – might not notice it –_ _  
_ _Yet – to my frugal Eye,_ _  
_ _Of more Esteem than Ducats –_ _  
_ _Oh find it – Sir – for me!_

She placed the book in the suitcase and took her phone to write a text, shaking her head, a wide smile on her face.

 _Thank you for finding my world._

§§§

Mal was approaching to the exit of the airport, a cigarette between her fingers, books under her arm and a huge, violet suitcase behind her. Regina waved her hand to draw her attention and the blonde smiled, spotting her between the crowd.

"Hello, my darling," she exclaimed when she joined her. "I'm famished, I could eat a dragon… how are you?" she said, placing a kiss on her cheek. Before she could answer, Mal frowned. "Regina Mills, is that a _hickey_ on your neck?"


	2. By Chivalries as Tiny

_Hi, everyone! I must say, I wasn't going to continue this - I had planned it as a OneShot, but since there are a few who want to read more, I've decided to go on and add some chapters! A special thank you to Alexia for the encouragement (luv ya, girl) - Sorry for the delay, but there was the CTP week and the spring premiere (how amazing was it? I have yet to stop crying, Lana killed it!) ... but enjoy the new bit! And thank you for all your reviews!_

* * *

 _ **By Chivalries as tiny**_

 _By Chivalries as tiny,  
A Blossom, or a Book,  
The seeds of smiles are planted —  
Which blossom in the dark. _

"Regina Mills, is that a _hickey_ on your neck?"

Regina blushed slightly, but managed to keep a straight face. "I have no idea of what you're talking about" she lifted her chin, a smile starting to emerge.

Mal lifted her eyebrows and smirked knowingly, "If you're not willing to talk, I'll force you, you know that" and she started to pull her suitcase towards the exit.

She followed her, the smile she was trying to hide now wide on her face. "You know, Gold has just phoned me… he has scheduled a meeting for today at six"

"You tell Gold to go and jump off a bridge" scoffed Mal. Regina knew there was some bad blood between the two of them – Duff Gold was not a man ready to tolerate well Mal's overpowering temper, but he had to keep her quiet. She probably was one of the best lawyers in Boston, their entire office had given her a well-justified nickname – _the Dragon_ – even if, one day, Regina had heard two secretaries talk about her as "that scary dragon bitch". She hadn't told Mal, though. No doubt the girls' head would have been immediately flambéed.

"Oh come on, I know you have a soft spot for him, deep down," she mocked her, eager to keep the discussion miles away from her dating life.

"Yes, deep down, three feet underground, my darling" she answered, and they stopped a cab, heading for Venice.

§§§

"Okay, lover girl," Mal attacked, lighting her cigarette, "Now talk".

They were sitting outside of a restaurant, two cheesy pizzas in front of them, and the blue lagoon was shining under the mid day's sun. Regina felt a sudden heat behind her neck and, this time, she visibly blushed, but didn't speak.

"Oh, my god" Mal leaned towards her, scrutinizing her face. "You're smitten!"

"I'm not!"

"You're blushing" she said, as a matter of fact. She inhaled the smoke, relaxing on her chair. "Come on, Regina, what happened?"

"Well…" she started, biting her lip. "I've met someone"

"In New York?" asked Mal – now that Regina was speaking, she started to eat, and took a morsel of pizza.

"In Venice" she confessed, and her friend nearly choked on her bite.

"What?" she coughed, taking a sip of water. "You arrived _yesterday_ "

"It happened yesterday" she confirmed, trying to keep a certain composure.

"You shady lady," Mal smiled widely. "I wouldn't have bet a cent on it"

"Well thank you, Mal," she answered, offended.

"Oh come on, you know what I meant," she said in a softer tone. "I'm happy for you, it was… about time"

"Yes, it was," she diverted her gaze and fixed it on the sea. Mal smoked quietly for a minute, letting her think of Daniel, as she always did when she had The Look – as Emma called it.

"So" her friend shook her from her thoughts. "How was the sex?"

"The… the what?" she snapped her head towards Mal.

"You know, last night, Venice, you, a hot man, how was the sex?"

"We didn't have sex" she shrugged.

"I don't believe you" Mal stated. "I've seen the signs, remember?"

"He says we're taking it slowly" Regina smiled, and she thought of that last kiss on the bridge, his hands between her hair, his lips…

"You got a romantic!" Mal clapped her hands and looked at her, "How sweet!"

"Shut up" she bit back. "He's nice"

"Only nice?"

"Okay, he's hot," she admitted.

"Even better," said Mal, sipping her wine. "But you haven't told me how you've met him"

"Well… it's a strange tale" she replied. "We exchanged suitcases at the airport… and when I opened it, I was a bit shocked, because it was a mess… then he called me, to invite me for dinner… and he brought me ice cream" she smiled.

"You're completely smitten" smirked Mal, triumphantly.

"I'm not that kind of person" she bit back.

"Yeah, sure" nodded the blonde. She let out a string of smoke, and Regina raised her eyebrow. A seagull flew right above them and she left Mal's amused eyes to watch it – gliding towards the ground and then lifting again in a graceful movement.

"And when are you seeing him again?"

Regina lifted a hand to her neck and rubbed it absent-mindedly. "Aehm… in half an hour, to be honest"

"I can't wait to meet him, my darling" the grin on Mal's face was growing wider every minute. Regina could imagine why. Emma, Mal and Mary Margaret had formed a sort of support team after Daniel's death, making sure Regina didn't shut herself out from the world, making her feel loved and not alone. They had tried to force her to go to a blind date – but she had always told them she wasn't ready. She had seen their concerned faces, she had to bear a thousand of hope speeches from Mary Margaret, gift-boxes with red lingerie on the inside from Emma and hangovers with Mal, but she just couldn't bring herself to face the possibility of having another chance.

"I'd love for you to meet him, Mal," she sighed. "But please, not _today_ , I don't want you to scare him yet," she made sure to add a smile, and her friend laughed.

"Oh, I'll have to wait to play the bad cop, then" she said. "But I'm wondering why you are here and not in your room, getting ready"

Regina rolled her eyes, but she took her purse and lifted from her chair. "I'm going, boss" she scoffed. "I'll see you at six"

"Can't wait to see Gold again" Mal said with a devilish smile.

She smirked and patted her shoulder by passing her, "Be good," she told her, and Mal protested, "I always am!"

§§§

He was waiting for her outside her hotel, one arm behind his back, a wide smile when she exited the glass door. She approached to him and he extended the hidden hand, showing a blue rose. "Good morning, beautiful," he greeted.

She accepted it with a curtsy, "Thank you," she smiled, lifting it to her nose and aspiring the fragrance. "I have to say that I'm rather impressed" she said.

He tilted his head, "Because I brought you a rose?"

"Because it has a… original color" she explained, and he smiled again.

"We had an original first meeting, after all…" he answered. "And I like to think that red roses are for common women"

She leaned closer, a sharp thorn pressing slightly on her finger. "I'm not a common woman?"

"I'd say you're unique" he answered, and got closer to peck her lips. She smiled, returning the kiss – she liked that kind of domesticity, and he brought up a hand to stroke her cheek.

"So… what do you want to do?" she asked, their forehead still touching.

"I want to show you a place" he answered. He took her hand and they parted from their closeness, starting to walk down the sidewalk.

"You know, you should be flattered," she said after a bit. "Generally, I don't like surprises"

"Why's that?" he asked.

"I find them threatening" she smiled. "And yet, it's the second time in a few hours that I let you surprise me"

"Oh, now I feel the pressure" he joked. "I guess that's because you trust me?"

"Well," she turned to glance at him, "I don't know why, but yes"

He laced their fingers as he had done the night before, and she felt a sudden beauty in all of this – being hand in hand with a man she liked, a blue rose on the other hand, and feeling carefree for some time.

"This is, frankly, quite flattering" he agreed. "Anyway, it occurred to me that I know quite a lot about your private world… your godson, Emma, your husband…"

"Fiancé" she interrupted him. "We've never had the chance to marry"

He stayed silent, and she looked at the sky, bright blue, almost painful to watch.

"And?" she urged him to go on.

"And I don't know almost anything about you" he resumed. "Your job, the things you do during your free time, your other friends…"

"You want us to play at twenty questions?" she smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. She wasn't wearing her heels – the height difference was quite sweet, so she had opted for her only pair of flat boots.

"Maybe later," he smirked. "Because we are arrived"

He stopped, and she lifted her eyes, taking in the scene. In front of them, there was a church, glowing under the winter sun – white walls that went up, and up, culminating in a huge, round dome. Tall columns surrounded the door, statues peeking from the central segment of the height. Sumptuous spirals and marble leaves framed the statues and the windows.

"So?" he asked, Regina was still speechless.

"It's beautiful" she whispered. "I haven't seen much of Venice, apart from the square and some bridges"

"Well, this is a deconsecrated church. A place the tourists don't know" he smiled.

"And how come that you know it?" she asked, without diverting her gaze from the church.

"I lived here for two years, when I was studying" he explained.

"We absolutely have to play at twenty questions as soon as possible" she said, "I don't even know what you do for living"

"I'm an architect" he answered. "What about you?"

"A lawyer" she said. "Actually," she added, as they started walking towards the church, "I have a meeting with the others at six… I'm sorry, I should have told you"

"No problem" he affirmed. "What kind of boss schedules a meeting at six on a Saturday night?"

"Don't make me think about that" she rolled her eyes, "he arrives in Venice today at five, one would think he needs some time to recover from the jet lag, but no, he practically doesn't sleep"

Robin looked at her, scrutinizing her face. "Does he force you all to stay up late?"

"Most of the times" she shrugged. "But nothing that a cup of coffee can't fix"

He had a hard look on his eyes. "I hope so" he said. She couldn't really read his expression… was it… concern? He was worried… about her? She felt a long forgotten, warm feeling spread on her chest – she wasn't used to have someone who _cared_ …

"Okay, time to show you this masterpiece," he said, and he pushed the wooden door of the church. She turned, and she was hit by a wave of unfamiliar smell… incense.

He followed her inside, placing a hand on her back, and they walked towards the first line of benches. They sat, and she looked around. The ceiling was high – she could see the inside of the dome, painted with frescos which depictured angels and clouds. There was a suffused golden light, the rays of sunlight passed through the windows and were attenuated, softened by the painted glasses. Tall columns linked the dome to the ground, and everywhere she saw statues, paintings, flowers. Candles were placed on some tables on the sides – tiny flames burning at the middle of little red cups.

"I like this place" she whispered very softly.

"I like it too," he answered. "It's peaceful"

"Did you come here when you were young?" she asked, tracing imaginary paths on his hand with her thumb.

"Sometimes," he said quietly. They stood there in silence, simply enjoying the quiet, for what could have been a minute or an hour, Regina couldn't tell. She held his hand – he was strong yet gentle, and she felt _safe_ …

"Would you like to see my favorite part of the church?" he said after a bit, careful not to disturb the woman who was drawing in silence, some meters away.

"Lead the way" she encouraged, and they got up slowly. She placed her blue rose on the bench, carefully, and then he guided her across the lateral aisle, towards the other side of the church. He approached to the raised ground floor where the altar stood, but didn't climb the three steps to get up there. Instead, he led her through a door on the right side, and they descended about twenty steps. She felt suddenly intrigued – did they even _have_ the permission to be there? – when he turned the corner, and she followed, meeting a completely different atmosphere.

A huge, marble coffer was placed in the middle of the room. It probably hosted the remains of some saint or an important Venetian personality. There were columns even down there – four, wide-sized, surrounding the coffer. Candles were placed at every corner – so much more than upstairs, gracing the room with a glowing aura.

They were not alone – there was an old couple as well, standing still in front of a statue of the Virgin. She felt Robin's hand tighten as he began the tour of the room – they took their time to study the statues, dark shadows on their marble faces, and she was particularly struck by the fact that there was a lonely tear rolling down Mary's cheek.

"Do you know why she is crying?" she whispered.

"It's a recurrent motive in Mary's statues," he answered, and she could tell from his tone that he was passionate about art. "They add a tear to depict her after Jesus' death"

"Oh" she said in understanding. She stood quiet for a moment, ancient thoughts swirling in her mind. _I can't think about this now_. She looked at Mary's gentle face. "The model must have been very beautiful"

"Indeed," he agreed. "Well, I don't know about this period, but during the nineteenth century, in Paris, it was a common habit to ask the prostitutes to sit for paintings"

She looked up at him. "Are you kidding me?"

"You can't deny it was the quickest way to find a beautiful woman" he smiled.

She tilted her head, considering his words. "I suppose you're right" she said. She heard a noise – the old couple was heading for the stairs again, and soon they were left alone in the room.

He shifted from aside her to behind her, circling her waist with his arms, and she leaned her head on his chest, continuing to look up at the statue. She felt him place his lips on her hair and drop a kiss there, and she smiled secretly, for she was sure he had his eyes closed. She turned slightly her head and he opened them, meeting her gaze. Blue eyes were piercing her soul – and soon she couldn't bear it anymore and closed hers, nearing her mouth, and he didn't disappoint, because he met her lips midway.

She gave him space, deepening the kiss, and their height difference was just right for him to kiss her in that way. He lifted an arm from her waist, bringing it to her neck, and she moaned when she felt his hand on a very perceptive point on her nape. They never broke the kiss as they moved – two steps, and he was pressing her back… on one of the four columns, she could feel the cold marble in contact with her coat. Her hands were leaning on his shoulders as he pulled her closer, and she could feel the desire growing stronger…

She broke the kiss, choosing to be the responsible one. "Stop" she breathed, and he panted on her neck, trying to regain some oxygen.

"As much as I'd love to" she whispered, "someone could enter, and if we go past this point, I won't be able to stop myself"

"You're right" she heard him say, but he didn't loosen the embrace.

"And," she added, trying to keep a straight face, "our first time together _won't_ be in a vault, full of dead bodies, and surrounded by candles!"

"You make it sound so romantic," he chuckled.

"No way. Not now, not ever," she laughed softly.

"Never? Not even in an alternate universe?" he mocked her, but she scoffed. "Come on, let's go," she said, taking his hand. They walked across the room, and arrived to the stairs just as an old nun was descending to enter the crypt. Regina widened her eyes in shock, and the woman looked at them oddly as she walked past them. When she was gone, she doubled over laughing, her shoulders shaking silently, and when she saw Robin's pale face, she laughed even more.

"It's not funny," he muttered, but a smile crackled on his face.

"It's hilarious," she answered, wiping away a tear. "Oh, thank god I've stopped our little tête-à-tête, or we would probably have caused a war… involving the United States, the United Kingdom, Italy and the Vatican"

"…to say the least" he agreed. "So, have you enjoyed your first Italian church?"

"Unforgettable" she smiled. They climbed the stairs and went again across the aisle, she retrieved her rose, and soon they were exiting in the sun.

"So... it's almost five" she said, glancing at her watch.

"And?" he asked.

"I still have one hour" she answered. "Care to have a drink?"

"Sounds great," he nodded.

§§§

He felt her hand steady in his, her cold fingers grasping lightly the back, as they walked down the street and through a bridge. He glanced at her, and she was looking at the sky, a smile gracing her features. She was holding the blue rose in her other hand, brought up to her chest. It really went well with her black coat and the silken, royal blue scarf she was wearing, and – that moment, that exact moment, when the rays of the sun brightened her hair, the rose so near to her red lips – he had that moment already sculptured in his head forever.

"Robin," she murmured, blinking twice and turning at him, "I think it's time for you to begin with your questions"

He brought up a corner of his lips. "You're bold," he teased, "for letting me go first"

"Maybe it's just a way to torture you later," she replied with a devilish smile.

"So, there was some… evil… hidden agenda" he joked, and she nodded seriously.

"Come on," she urged. "Spit it out"

"Okay then," he hesitated. "I'll go soft… your favorite color"

She shook her head, still smiling. "This won't keep me from going hard, when it's my turn," she warned. "Anyway… periwinkle blue, I think"

"A shade, then," he smirked.

"What's the fun in a plain color?" she answered, swinging their hands a little.

"No, it's better being mysterious, right?"

She laughed, then, "I wouldn't have it in any other way," and she looked up at him, her shoulder pressed on his forearm. They had arrived in front of a pub – nothing fancy, it was quite the hidden place, but she nodded, "This one will do," and pushed the door, and they stopped by the counter to grab two glasses of wine.

"Go on," she said, once they were sitting at a low table, lifting the glass to her lips. "You still have nineteen questions"

"I think I'll stop to ten and save the others" he replied. "Well… I wanna know…" he made the wine swirl slowly. "Your best friends' names and how did you meet them"

She smiled, "You already know of Emma," she began, "I've practically grown up with her… we were at school together, and, well, we just stayed friends until now… then there's Mary Margaret" she said. "We fight about many things, but she's caring, after all… I've met her at college". She paused, reflecting. "Then Mal, she's older than me, and she was my tutor during my internship as lawyer… she helped me a lot" she said. "By the way, she's part of my team, and she's in Venice too"

His eyes lifted to encounter hers, "I hope I'll get to meet her, someday"

"She wanted to meet you, today," Regina confessed.

He smiled then, "Have you already told her of me?"

She squeezed her eyes, looking at him, "You weren't exactly _subtle_ , yesterday," she lifted a hand to her neck, uncovering the reddish mark he had left her, the previous evening.

He smirked, biting his lip, "I hope this won't cost my head, your majesty," he mocked her, and she rolled her eyes. "Another question, come on," she said, but half-smiling.

"It's the third, right?" he said, and brought up a hand to rest there his chin, thinking. He would have left the thorny questions for another occasion, he decided. "Where do you live in Boston?"

"Cambridge," she answered, lowering the wine and placing it on the table.

"My son and my ex-wife live in Somerville," he said, almost to himself. She stayed silent, looking at the table, and he couldn't quite decipher her thoughts. He reached for her hand, and she looked down to their hands, then up to his face. He could have drowned in those brown eyes… Then the magic was over, he blinked, and she smiled, squeezing his hand.

"Do you have any sibling?" he asked, and she didn't leave his gaze, but her eyes saddened, all of a sudden.

"My… family," she began, "it's a delicate topic… I have a step-sister, but I didn't know of her existence since some years ago"

"What happened?" he asked, genuinely interested. He could see she forced a smile, but nonetheless, her eyes were bright when she said "Careful, it counts as a question," earning a hearty laugh.

She traced the contour of her glass with her thumb, slowly. "Zelena was in need of a donor, for a surgery… and they called me, it has been a coincidence" she told him. "They were surprised by the chances of finding such a perfect match… and they ran some tests. Turns out we share a mother," she said. "The problem is that my mother died a few years ago, and we couldn't ask her anything about this, I suppose"

He realized he was staring at her, and he shook his head. "That's awful, I'm sorry," he murmured.

She shrugged, "At least I've gained a sister," she said.

"It has its perks," he nodded. "Best present you have ever received?" he asked, changing the subject.

"My horse" she answered immediately, without thinking. "A birthday present from Daddy, when I was ten"

He smiled, because she was smiling at the thought, and the mood was a bit more comfortable. "Your favorite smell?"

She extended her free hand to touch the stalk of the rose, and took a few seconds to think. "The forest after the rain" she answered. "The sea in winter, and… no, this one is embarrassing"

"Tell me anyway," he said, stroking a thumb over her hand. She blushed, just barely, but he could see it even in the low light.

"Okay… the smell of Henry's hair when he was a baby" she confessed. He felt his heart melt, just like that, because she seemed so fond of her godson, yet so fragile, almost expecting him to laugh. He shook his head slightly. "I was a sucker for Roland's smell, when he was nothing but a little thing" he told her, and she smiled, seeming grateful.

"I've lost count," he chuckled, and she scoffed, muttering a well-audible _Obviously_. "You have three questions" she informed him, "if you wanna save the other ten"

"Yes, I want to," he answered. "Tell me… a place you absolutely want to go to"

Regina laced their fingers, and he felt the cold pressure of her silver ring. "I think… Africa," she said. "Something like… three months away, you know? Helping people"

"As a volunteer?"

"I suppose so," she said. "Two to go, and then I'll be free" she smiled.

"When's your birthday?" he asked then.

"February the 1st," she smiled. He leaned on his chair, lifting his eyebrows. "That was the other day," he said. "I'm glad you got to party with your family, before leaving".

"Yes, it has been fun," she admitted. "I don't like my birthday so much, but... Henry insisted" and again, that fond smile.

"I see, it's hard to tell them no," agreed Robin. Then he lifted from his chair and she followed, surprised. "Where are we going?"

"Well, it's almost six" he told her, and she threw a glance to her watch, muttering a _Shit_. They paid the wine and exited – the wind had lifted, in one hour, and she was keeping the rose close to her chest, for not to ruin it.

"The last question is coming, I'm afraid," he smiled, and she tilted her head.

"Should I worry?"

"Absolutely not, it's harmless," he chuckled. They had stopped in a narrow street, and he was painfully aware that their separation was approaching. She got closer, their bodies in contact, and looked up at him expectantly.

"Well, ask me then," she murmured, and he let out a breath, hesitating.

"You know that Tuesday is the last day of the Carnival?" he began, and she nodded. "I have a feeling this wasn't the actual question," she said.

"No, it wasn't," he looked down to take her hand, and continued. "My company's CEO has a huge house in Venice… more like a palace," he said, and her eyes were shining, she was listening in silence. "And she hosts a ball, on Tuesday night," he explained.

She was still silent, but a smile had begun to emerge on her lips.

"So… would you like to come with me?" he finally asked, almost shyly, and her smile cracked openly. She hesitated a moment, which felt far longer than just a moment. Then she nodded, and leaned in to kiss his lips. "I'd love to," she answered, "if you don't mind me stepping on your feet"

"You can't be that bad," he chuckled. He brought his free hand to his pocket, and extracted a white envelope, giving it to her. "This is the formal invitation," he said, and she turned the sealed paper, reading the name of the company. " _Fisher Sisters,_ " she read. "Sounds lovely"

"Can't wait for you to meet her," he smiled knowingly. "It will be a spectacular moment"

"Stop teasing me," she protested. She looked at the watch again, two minutes to six. "I have to go," she told him, and he nodded, and kissed her again. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked once they parted.

"That depends from my boss," she frowned, and then smiled. "I'll text you when the meeting is over"

"Perfect," he agreed. "Good evening then, beautiful," he said her, and she winked, then turned towards the tall building, and entered, disappearing from his view.

§§§

Regina stepped outside of the elevator, and quickly walked towards the reunion room in Gold's hotel – obviously, the best hotel in town, but it had its perks, for it was shamefully close to the central square. She hid the rose inside her purse - thankfully, it fitted. She wasn't ready for the questions about _that_. She glanced at her watch – three minutes after six – and pushed the door to enter. They were already there – Mal, with a bored expression, holding a lifeless cigarette; Elsa and Belle, already busy at reading some reports, and Arthur, his usually shady expression gone, replaced from a reproachful one. Gold was at the window, his back turned, hands jointed.

"Sorry, I'm late," she excused herself, and he turned at the sound of her voice, and clapped his hands once. "About time the queen showed up," he mocked her. She didn't answer, but approached to the table and threw her purse and coat on an empty chair, and sat next to Mal.

"Now that her majesty has graced us with her presence," he started, and Belle rolled her eyes – Regina knew she didn't like to argue with her husband at work – "maybe we could begin. First of all," he said, "I've received awful news from my contacts in Venice – the trial doesn't start before next week, more precisely, on Thursday," he announced, and Mal let out a loud huff of annoyance. He stared at her, and she rolled her eyes. "What?" she asked angrily. "We could have arrived one week later"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Drake, but start thinking about all the things you could do in these days, without bothering me, because I'm hardly to blame" he answered, calmly.

"Fine," spat out Mal, and motioned towards him. "Go ahead, please"

"Thank you," he said, voice dangerously low. "Tonight we'll begin to examine the reports – then, I'll leave you free to go, until the next meeting"

And that was it. He kept them locked in the room for four hours straight – at some point, Belle exited to fetch a pot of coffee, and Regina could see that Mal was getting more and more nervous. After the second hour of paperwork, Gold let them have a ten-minute break.

Regina followed Mal outside on the balcony. The sky was as black as the coffee she was holding in her hand, and she leaned on the balustrade, watching the sea without actually seeing it. The blonde lightened her cigarette and inhaled the smoke with satisfaction.

"So, how was the date?" she asked, visibly more relaxed.

Regina glanced at her, then diverted her gaze again. "Fine, I suppose," she said, without smiling.

Mal turned her head towards her, her face now concerned. "What's up? Did he do something wrong?"

"No," she sighed in answer. "I'm just pissed off at Gold, that's all… the date was great, honestly," she tempted a smile, and her friend nodded. "What did you do this afternoon?" Regina asked, and Mal took one last puff of smoke, then pressed the stub in the ashtray.

"Well, while _you_ were busy going all lovey-dovey with your man," she teased, and Regina smiled back, " _I_ was finding us an apartment, and obviously succeeding"

"Oh, that's great," approved Regina.

"We can move in tomorrow," announced the blonde, but then, Belle was peeking through the glass door and telling them to come back inside, the break was over. "Blasted man" muttered Mal, entering, and Regina chuckled, careful not to be noticed by Gold.

§§§

She exited from the bathroom, wrapping the robe around her body, and saw the phone buzzing on the bed. _Emma_. She brought it to her ear – a wide smile already appearing on her lips.

"Hello?"

" _Hey there, morning_ ," she heard Emma chuckle.

"More like evening," she scoffed, and sat on the bed, wetting the covers.

" _Oh yeah, sure, what time is it there?_ "

"Like a quarter past eleven, Miss Swan. Six hours, remember?" she answered, and she laid down, welcoming the blissful sensation of the soft mattress on her back.

" _Well, here it's five, and there's someone who wants to talk to you_ ," said Emma, and before she could answer, her voice was replaced by a lighter one.

" _Hi, Aunt Regina!_ "

"Hi, sweetheart," she said to Henry, and she felt the tears prickling. "How are you? Sorry I didn't call yesterday"

" _I'm fine_ ," he answered, " _but I miss you_ ," he added with a sad voice.

"Oh, honey, I miss you too," she said sweetly, and a tear rolled down on her cheek. "Be good for your mom, okay? And take care of her"

" _Okay_ ," she heard him answer. " _I'll pass you mom now! I love you_ "

"I love you too," she whispered, and he was gone. Emma's voice returned on the phone. " _So, how was the first day?_ "

"Tiring," she said, wiping her cheek. "Gold just let us free"

" _That jerk_ ," Emma muttered. " _How's Mal?_ "

"Apocalyptically fine, as always," she laughed. "She found us an apartment"

" _Well she has been quick! What did you do yesterday?_ "

Regina hesitated a second. "Sightseeing"

" _Really?_ " she could hear Emma smirk from there.

"Sort of," she shrugged. She couldn't avoid telling Mal about Robin – but Emma would have told Mary Margaret, and Mary Margaret would have started with the wedding arrangements, and no, she couldn't tell them yet.

" _Oh-kay_ " Emma said, and she just _knew_ , she hadn't fooled her best friend, Emma always knew when she was lying.

"Look, I think I'll go to bed now," she said quickly.

" _Sure_ ," answered the blonde, " _good night, and behave, will you?_ "

"Clearly," she laughed. "Say goodbye to Henry for me,"

" _Okay boss, sleep well_ ," said Emma, and she ended the call.

Regina rolled over the bed, and looked at the phone – before she could stop herself, she wrote Robin a text, smiling.

 _\- Tomorrow morning I'll move into the new apartment, I'll see you during the afternoon?_

She closed her eyes, _just for a moment_ , she told herself, giving up on her tiredness, and she fell asleep. So she missed his answer, which waited for her until morning, when she opened her eyes, shivering for the cold.

 _\- I can't wait._


	3. Hope is the Thing with Feathers

_First of all, thank you so much for the amazing support - and of course the reviews, I love to read your thoughts :) and here I am with the new chapter... sorry, I won't give you the ball yet! But let me welcome some new characters :) lots of love!  
_

* * *

 _ **Hope is the thing with feathers**_

" _Hope" is the thing with feathers -  
That perches in the soul -  
And sings the tune without the words -  
And never stops - at all - _

_And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -  
And sore must be the storm -  
That could abash the little Bird  
That kept so many warm - _

_I've heard it in the chilliest land -  
And on the strangest Sea -  
Yet - never - in Extremity,  
It asked a crumb - of me._

When Regina woke up, on Sunday morning, she felt a dull sensation all over her body. She blinked once or twice, and tried to move an arm, a leg, anything. _Oh. That's not good_. She was shivering, the mattress cold under her stomach, and she analyzed the situation slowly. Even her brain was functioning awkwardly. _Okay_. Her head was squeezed by a strong headache, which started from the core of her cells and sent waves of pain down to her spine. Breathing was hard. She couldn't feel her nose, heavy and blocked. But above all, there were the familiar, feverish shivers of cold. The bathrobe, still wet and stiff, was glued to her back.

She let out an annoyed moan, then tried again to move her hand. Her fingers met the cold surface of the phone, from where a soft light pulsed intermittently, signaling a message. She groaned when the screen lightened, hurting her eyes.

It was late, nine in the morning. She had slept ten hours straight, her hair damp, without a blanket, with her wet bathrobe. _Shit_.

She let her thumb unlock the screensaver. There was a vocal message from Emma, three missed calls from Mal, a text from Robin.

She read his text, and her first smile, that morning, was for his words.

 _I can't wait._

She blinked again – didn't answer, she needed a few minutes to type an appropriate response. She switched to the other conversation and opened Emma's message.

" _Oh my god, Regina_ ," Emma's voice was high, hyper-excited – she was probably drunk, " _I have important, very important, like absolutely important news and you must_ ," there was a noise, Emma stopped talking, she heard her saying _Killian, give that back_ , and then her voice returned, " _you must call me okay? You can't miss this, call me Ah-S-Ah-P, got it? Bye and have fun_ "

She groaned again – a drunk Emma Swan was the last of her problems right now. Then she opened the missed calls – all three from Mal. She was about to press the green button – when she felt the familiar taste of the bile rising up from her stomach to her throat. She pushed up, quickly, on her arms – just in time to avoid the mattress – and suddenly, the floor was covered by the disgusting product of her cold night.

Regina passed an arm over her mouth, cleaning up the liquids – her head was currently being stabbed by thousands of daggers. The phone was buzzing again, and she picked it up, falling on the bed again, trying to stop the nausea.

"Yes," she whispered weakly.

" _Regina, why weren't you answering?_ " Mal said, annoyed. " _You told me half past eight, I've called you three times alre –_ "

"Mal" she interrupted her, and her friend stopped talking, maybe because her voice was like a croak. "I'm not feeling well"

" _What happened?_ " she could hear concern in Mal's voice, now.

"I've thrown up," she muttered.

" _Oh, darling_ ," her annoyance gone, sympathy was filling her words. " _I'll be right there, okay?_ "

"Thank you," answered Regina. "Knock when you're here"

" _Okay_ ," said Mal, and she closed the call, and shut her eyes, and just lied on the bed, waiting. Her head was throbbing, quivers of ice running on her back, and she didn't know how much time had passed when she heard three gentle knocks. She rolled over the bed – too quickly, a sudden dizziness had her put a hand on the night table to stand up, and she walked slowly towards the door, and opened it.

Mal was there, her suitcase next to her, taking in her trembling figure, and she took a step forward, grabbed her arm, she welcomed her touch and leaned on her.

"Oh, Regina, you look like shit," the blonde said, and despite her words, there was nothing but worry in her voice. "What have you done? You seemed well yesterday"

She accompanied her towards the bed and pushed her down – she sat again. "I took a shower and fell asleep without drying my hair… and with only a wet bathrobe to cover me," she explained, and Mal shook her head.

"I'm gonna kill Gold someday, I swear, nice and slow," she spat out, bringing up a hand to her forehead. She took a breath and looked at her. "Okay, I'll take care of this, you just lay down under the covers, alright?"

Regina nodded, relief spreading in her chest, and she gladly accepted her help to get into the bed. She closed her eyes, listening to Mal while she cleaned up the floor – thankfully, she had barely anything in her stomach, so it was mainly a liquid mess. Then, the blonde began to retrieve her things, putting them in her suitcase, inspecting all the room, making sure she didn't forget anything.

She hummed a song, while she worked, and in her numbness she recognized Lana Del Rey's version of _Once Upon A Dream_. At some point, the sounds stopped, and Mal was shaking gently her shoulder.

"Come on, time to go," she said, and Regina got up slowly, a new rush of nausea went straight to her head, but this time she managed to reach the toilet bowl, and emptied there her stomach – Mal was holding her hair, she could feel the cold ceramic under her fingers.

"I think I've finished," she said, and tried to stand up.

"Are you able to dress yourself or you need help?"

"I can manage," she answered. Mal silently handed her a black sweater and a pair of trousers. "I'll wait outside," she murmured exiting, and closed carefully the door behind her.

Regina sat on the edge of the bathtub to put up her clothes – the wool was a welcoming embrace, and she felt warm and comfortable for the first time that morning. She kept her eyes closed – the dizziness wasn't gone.

She exited after five long minutes, hair tied up in a bun, without any trace of make-up. Mal was on the phone, and she leaned on the door, listening.

"No, _you_ listen to me," she said angrily. "I don't care, she's sick, for Christ's sake! You can't expect her to..." she stopped to let the other person talk. "Fine," she answered after a while. "Thank you, I appreciate that. See you," she lowered the phone and closed the call.

"Who was that?"

"Gold," she answered sharply. "He wanted us to meet today, but I've told him you're sick, so he'll call only the others"

Regina rolled her eyes, "He said no meetings until Thursday!"

"That's why I was yelling," said Mal. "Come on, let's go to the apartment"

She looked at the blonde, dumbfounded. "Now?"

"Yes, come on, it's a five-minute walk from here, it's not far," Mal urged her towards the door, pushing the suitcases outside. "You'll see, it will be better than this room"

§§§

The air was fresh outside, and Regina welcomed the wind on her face, the bright blue sky of the Sunday morning, and the heat of the sun on her skin. The sea was calm, that day. Thin waves hit the stone of the banks. She closed her eyes, paying little attention to the people that surrounded her. Her fever was probably high, and in regular times, she would never have gone outside without make-up, hair like a mess and dressed like a thirteen- year-old. But she was feeling terribly, and she didn't care, as long as her stomach held on.

Mal joined her, touching her arm, and she opened her eyes. There was a guy from the hotel's staff with her. He was holding their suitcases, and she felt Mal take her by the arm. "I made sure they send the bill to our boss," she informed her, with a satisfied smirk, "and this is Peter, he'll help us with our things, okay? Can you walk?"

Regina nodded, and she met Peter's concerned eyes. He was quite handsome – black hair, gentle eyes, he seemed worried. "Thank you," she said in his direction.

They started to walk, and she spent the time trying not to throw up again. Mal's arm was steady, under hers, and it was holding her weight almost completely. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, the grey pavement sliding under her gaze.

Mal stopped in her tracks, "We're here," she said, and Regina looked up.

The first impression she got of the house, was that it seemed to be born of a fairy tale. Three stone steps led to a door, painted of an electric blue, two windows at each side, lively flowers popped out from earthenware vases. The walls were white, and bright, almost too much vivid. There were other windows upstairs, and she shifted her gaze to the side of the house: there was a bridge, up there, a private boardwalk which led to another building, with another blue door and twin windows. Under the bridge, a narrow canal. She looked at the other house: the same flowers were placed in similar vases, and the two houses were practically identical, except for one thing: a wooden plaque above the other door, with elegant letters craved on the wood, she squeezed her eyes to read: _Dalla Nonna_ , it said, and she turned towards Mal, who had just knocked at the door.

"What does that mean?" she asked, but before Mal could answer, the door swung open, and she looked up. On the top of the three steps, there was an old woman, grey and curly hair, round glasses, a light blue apron covering her chest and stomach, and she was holding an enormous bowl with a spoon inside.

"Mallory Elizabeth Drake, look at you," exclaimed the woman, placing the bowl on the window, and she descended the steps, and hugged Mal tightly. She pulled back, and brought up her hands to Mal's cheeks. "You are so thin, honestly, what on hell do you eat in America?"

"Hi, Granny," smiled Mal, and Regina looked at her, her eyes were bright, she was looking at the old woman fondly.

Granny turned towards Peter, who had greeted her too, and she told him "Ruby is upstairs, if you want to say hi". Peter nodded; he picked up the suitcases again, and disappeared inside.

The woman turned towards them again, and finally, she looked at Regina, who was clinging again to Mal's arm. "And who's this beautiful lady?"

"Granny, this is Regina Mills – Regina, this is Maria Lucas," said Mal, and Regina pulled out her free hand, tempting a weak smile, but Granny hugged her too, and she leaned on the warm embrace for a moment. When they parted, Granny let out an annoyed huff. "Here's another who is skin and bones," she complained, and Mal laughed, "I have no doubt you'll make her gain twenty pounds, Granny," she said. Regina smiled, but the thought of food was worsening her health situation.

She squeezed lightly Mal's arm, and the blonde looked at her. "Mal, I think I need the bathroom again," she whispered, and Mal nodded. She turned towards Granny, motioning to the inside. "Regina is a bit sick, can we come in?"

"Sure!" said Granny. "You could have said that right away, Mallory," she scolded her. They held Regina's arms, then Mal left her to Granny, who pushed her towards the bathroom. Regina threw herself above the sink – but nothing happened. "What does she have?" the old woman asked Mal.

"I think she has a mild fever… and she threw up twice this morning," answered the blonde. Regina was still leaning there. She tried not to lift her head and not to look in the mirror; for she was sure she looked horribly. Granny squeezed her arm gently. "Come on, let's go to bed," she said, and Regina nodded slowly. "You need a warm blanket and a fire, girl, it's the only way to heal," she stated.

She threw a quick look to the kitchen, passing by it, but couldn't see almost anything – they helped her climb the stairs, a large passage, a light blue carpet covering the steps. She had taken her boots off, so she could feel the smoothness of the fabric under her feet. From upstairs, she heard music playing, a muffled sound coming from one of the rooms.

Granny was preceding Regina and Mal – the blonde was holding her, while the old woman was carrying Regina's suitcase with a shocking strength for her age.

When Granny reached the last step, she huffed, putting down the weight, and slammed one hand on the first door on the left. "Ruby! Turn down that damned music, girl, we have guests, have some respect!"

"There's no need –" tried to say Regina, but Granny shook her head, and hit the door again. The music had stopped – and the door was opening, Peter exited, followed by a tall woman in her twenties, dark hair and a gentle smile. "Hi," she said to Mal and Regina, who were standing on the last step. "Are you okay?" she asked kindly, tilting her head, and looking at Regina.

"No, she's not, so you two help me or I swear you're grounded for one month," threatened Granny. "Peter, please, bring the suitcase in the last room, and then get your ass downstairs, and take that bowl of cream I left next to the door! Ruby, you go get Mallory's things and make some tea, and use the secret recipe for this one," she pointed at Regina. "Mallory, you'll help her in the bathroom, okay?"

"Okay, boss," laughed Ruby, clearly amused by the orders. Peter was already carrying the suitcase – they followed him, and Mal opened the last door at the end of the corridor. The bathroom was simple and spacious, a white bathtub, a sink and a toilet bowl. It was submerged in a white light, the lilac tiles on the walls were glowing, and Regina had to blink a few times, it was worsening her headache. Mal left her for a moment, and she came back holding her nightgown.

Regina slipped gladly out of the black clothes to wear the comfortable garment, and she washed her face – clean towels were already waiting for her on a chair near the sink. She didn't worry about the clothes; she placed them on the edge of the bathtub. Her nausea seemed to have calmed down, and she was feeling pleasantly sleepy.

Mal peeked through the door. "How are you?"

"Better, I think," she answered, replacing the towel down. She exited, and followed her friend across the corridor: apparently, her room was right opposite the bathroom. Mal opened the door, and she forgot about her headache for a moment, because the place was absolutely beautiful.

Her open suitcase was the only thing which disturbed the harmony of the room: Mal had placed it on the floor, and if she weren't feeling like that, she would have roasted her friend for the way she had messed her things up. She shook her head, and lifted her gaze to take the place in.

The walls were all white, except for the one opposite the door: a golden shade of paint surrounded the window – and from the window, she could see the sea, shining in all its mid-day splendor. The curtains were open, white, silken fabric cascading on the ground, elegantly laced by a golden ribbon.

The bed was queen-sized, with a blue quilt to cover it, white bed sheets, and two pillows, one above the other. A red, steaming mug was waiting on the night table, and Mal had put her phone next to it, and plunged it into the socket. There was a writing desk, next to the bed, made of dark and craved wood, it seemed to be antique. A chair in front of it, covered by blue velvet upholstery, its legs of the same material as the desk. There was a huge wardrobe in front of the bed – again, the same wood, and five bookshelves on the other wall. Her gaze flew to the ceiling – someone had painted it, and she could admire beautiful fluffy clouds and a blue sky. There was a tiny cupid in a corner: a beaming child holding a bow and pointing it towards the bed.

"Told you it was better than the hotel room," smiled Mal, she was observing Regina, as her friend watched her room with a stupefied look.

"You know I hate to say you're right," she answered, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"It had to happen someday… come on, there's your tea here," said Mal. Regina approached to the bed, and she climbed under the covers, and Mal passed her the mug, "Careful, it's hot"

She circled the mug with her hands, blowing once or twice to push the vapor away. "So, who's Granny?"

Mal sat on the bed, straightening invisible wrinkles of the blue cover. "Well, she was my nanny, when I was young," she said, and Regina sipped her tea, listening. "I've always stayed in touch with her, always phoned her for Christmas, and at some point she moved here with her husband. You'll meet him later, he's the Italian half of the family, and a sweet, caring man," she said. "The girl you saw, Ruby, is her granddaughter, and she's here to study. Her mother, Anita, lives in Pennsylvania"

Regina nodded, she thought she had understood almost everything, but her eyes were really starting to close, and Mal had to notice it, because she shook her head, smiling, and she got up from the bed.

"Alright, I'll let you sleep," she said, and Regina handed her the empty mug – she was already starting to feel the blissful effect of the herbs. "Thank you," she said, and Mal smiled again, approaching the window to close the curtains.

She exited, closing the door behind her, and Regina settled herself on the pillows, and she was starting to doze off, all cozy under the quilt…

 _Robin_.

The thought hit her mind like an arrow, and she slammed her eyes open. She rolled on the bed, and stretched an arm towards the night table – almost dropped the lamp – but managed to take her phone.

He answered after three rings, and hearing his voice… oh, she was almost ashamed of hers.

" _Regina?_ "

"Hi," she whispered.

" _Is something wrong?_ " he said, and she wondered how he could have understood it from a simple _hi_.

"Actually, yes," she answered. "I don't think I can make it to our date, this afternoon". She tensed, what if he misunderstood, and thought it was a poor excuse to avoid him? She felt her heart accelerate, while she waited for his answer.

" _What happened?_ " he asked kindly. He didn't sound angry.

"I think I'm sick, I… I don't feel well," she said, trying to avoid the details.

" _Don't worry_ ," he said, and she smiled in the dark. " _Just rest, okay?_ "

"Yes," she said in return. Then, she bit her lip, hesitating before speaking again. "Listen, would you… even if I can't go out today, would you like to come and visit me?"

She held her breath, pressing the phone on her ear.

" _Oh, I… wouldn't want to intrude_ ," he said, " _only if it's okay with you_ "

"Of course it is, I've invited you, you dumb," she chuckled softly. She heard him laugh, and continued, "let's say… at half past five, then?"

" _Perfect_ ," he agreed.

"Okay," she smiled. "I'll text you the address"

" _Deal. Now rest, Regina, please_ ," he said, and she nodded, even if he couldn't possibly see her.

"See you later," she whispered, and he she waited for his _okay_ before closing the call. She slid down from the bed and stumbled a bit, holding on to the mattress, until she found her purse – his blue rose was still inside, a little ruined on a petal, but otherwise still perfect. She searched in her bag for a bottle of water and she opened it, placing the rose inside, then she returned to the bed, and settled the bottle on her night table. And _finally_ , Regina could return under the blankets and close her eyes.

§§§

Her text reached him at five. He had kept fidgeting with the phone for all the afternoon, removed the mute function, and finally, he had heard the ring he expected. And there he was, in front of the blue-painted door, waiting for it to be opened. He was nervous, he couldn't lie to himself. Sure, two dates were one thing, but going to her apartment was another tale entirely.

He had spent a long and boring day. Calling Roland after lunch – before his son went to kindergarten – had been the only thing he had enjoyed doing. He missed him terribly, but despite his many differences with his ex-wife, Robin was still grateful, because Marian had immediately agreed with him about Roland, after the divorce: they had tried not to involve their son more than it was necessary in their fights, and it seemed they had succeeded, because he was a happy, gleeful child, who didn't bear visible signs of after-divorce traumas.

The sound of steps from the other side of the door shook him from his thoughts – and finally, it opened, revealing a beautiful, tall young woman smiling at him.

"Hi! You must be Robin," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Ruby – come in, it's freezing," she urged him, and he barely had time to shook her hand and to say _hi_ that she pushed him inside, closing the door.

The first thing he noticed was the heavenly smell coming from a door on the left – and he followed Ruby, entering the kitchen. The place was bright and spacious, three pots on the burner, the oven also working, and an energetic old lady, who was giving vigorous hits with a rolling pin to a white dough, splayed on the table.

"Hey Granny, look who's here," said Ruby nonchalantly, nearing the counter to steal a piece of cheese.

"Hands off, you sneaky wolf – oh, good morning!" the old lady greeted him. She passed her hands, dirty of flour, on her apron, then she looked at them and shook her head.

"You won't get a handshake, I'm afraid," she smiled. "Anyway, hello! I'm Maria Lucas, but you have to call me Granny! And you… you must be Regina's boyfriend!"

Robin stumbled a bit, surprised. "Oh, well, actually… did she say so?"

"Come on, I know how it works with you young people," said Granny, a wide grin on her mouth. "You hang out, you kiss, you swirl around one another for months, like two moths with a flame, and then, maybe, one of you is brave enough to admit their feelings! You waste so much time," she complained, and he could only smile. "But that's not my business," she added, and he didn't miss Ruby rolling her eyes from the other end of the room.

"Granny, leave the poor guy alone," she said, and he chuckled at her. "Come, let's leave the old hag to her food," she proposed, and she passed her grandma, who smacked her lightly on an arm.

He followed her outside, and she stopped in front of a staircase, motioning towards the steps. "Upstairs, end of the corridor, last door on the right," she smiled, and he thanked her with a nod, before starting to climb the steps. He removed his jacket, on his way, placing it on his arm.

Finally, he reached a white door and knocked softly twice. He heard a raspy "Come in," and he pushed the door, which creaked a bit but opened smoothly. The room was half-darkened, with a single ray of golden light coming from the window.

Regina was sitting on the bed, surrounded by pillows, her back resting against the bed head. A smile opened on her face, and he gladly returned it, entered and closed the door behind him. He approached to the bed and she patted on the mattress. He sat, leaning on to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head, and he met her lips instead. He savored her taste for a moment – vanilla and… mint? – and he brought up a hand to her hair, replacing a dark lock behind her ear.

She parted from the kiss and smiled again, and he just took in that moment – she was radiant, sitting there, in the golden light of the sunset.

"Hello," she whispered, and he smiled back, "Hello to you," he replied. "What happened this morning?"

She lowered her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. "Well, I went to the meeting, yesterday," she said, "and I was so tired that I fell asleep practically naked, and so this morning I threw up twice… then Mal has brought me here and I've slept for six hours straight," she explained. "I took a shower… and here you are," she smiled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, reaching for her hand. "Are you feeling better now?"

"I don't think Granny would let me rot in this bed any longer," she laughed. "So yes, much better… I'm actually famished, to be honest"

"Do you want me to go downstairs and fetch you something to eat?"

"Oh, no, stay," she said, shaking her head. "Granny said I'll need an empty stomach for my first Italian dinner" she added, and he chuckled.

"Granny is surely phenomenal," he nodded, and she widened her eyes. "I'm sorry, I should have been there to introduce you," she said, but he shrugged. "Don't worry, I think I've survived pretty well".

She stood silent for a moment, stroking her thumb over his hand. "What did you do today?"

He kept his gaze fixed on their hands. "Well, I've had a boring day… I've worked on a project, then called my son," he heard her chuckle fondly at that, he wondered if she was thinking about her godson. "Then I went for a stroll… I've brought you a gift, by the way," he said, and lifted his eyes – she had a curious smile on her lips. He turned a bit towards his jacket, that he had placed behind him, and retrieved a little plastic bag.

She tilted her head, and left his hand to take it. She pulled aside the white over and revealed his gift. A red mask exited from the bag, and Regina widened her eyes, passing her fingers between the elegant feathers placed on the right side of the mask.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, and he relished her smile as she turned around the object – there were two black ribbons attached to the sides, and she lifted it to her face, then leaned on to kiss his cheek.

"Do you like it then?" he asked, and she nodded. "Thank you," she told him. She lowered the mask and placed it on the night table. "Come here," she said, and he shifted on the bed, going to sit next to her, and passing an arm behind her shoulders.

Regina placed her head on his chest, and he dropped a kiss on her hair, inhaling the fresh, fruity scent of her shampoo. "So," she said lazily, tracing patterns on his stomach. "Tell me more about this ball you want us to go"

He chuckled against her hair, his heart fluttering when he heard her saying _us_ so casually. "Well, there are going to be a lot of masks," he started, "and I can't wait to see your costume"

Her hand stopped. "I guess I'll have to work on that," she said, almost to herself. "So all the guests are going to be dressed up?"

"Well, it's Carnival, after all," he said, and felt her nod under his chin. They stood silent, and he was simply enjoying the moment, holding her, when her hand dropped and remained still, and her breaths slowed down. She had fallen asleep. He didn't move, but closed his eyes, and adjusted his neck against the pillow.

He didn't know how much time had passed – but he was startled by a loud _bang!_ , and he opened his eyes with a jolt – the light had completely disappeared from the window, and he blinked a few times, Regina protesting against his chest. The door had opened, and standing on the door frame there was a tall, blonde woman.

"Alright, lovebirds," came her throaty voice. "Time to get up! Oh, look at you, all snuggled up," she said, and Regina's arm moved past him to reach a pillow – she threw it at the woman, who caught it at mid-air.

"Go away," Regina snorted, deeply annoyed.

"Be grateful I didn't take a photo and send it to Emma," replied the woman. "Anyway, dinner is ready!"

"Oh, okay!" said Regina, exasperated, and she lifted a bit from her position, rubbing her eyes. "Ah, yes," she exclaimed. "Mal, this is Robin,"

"Yeah, thanks, I figured," Mal rolled her eyes, but smiled at him.

"And Robin, this annoying bitch is normally called Mallory Drake, but you can call her Mal," she laughed. He nodded dutifully, and stretched a hand – Mal took two steps to shake it.

"It's… _fascinating_ … to finally meet you," she said, with an expression he couldn't read, so he replied with a polite "The same holds for me".

He turned his gaze towards Regina, just in time to catch her throw a meaningful look towards Mal. He wondered what was going on – but the blonde nodded imperceptibly, and Regina shifted on the bed to reach the floor. She got up and approached to a chair – there were some clothes on it, a blue sweater and a pair of jeans, and she grabbed them, walked towards the door and turned to look at them.

"I'll go and dress up," she said, and threw a glance to her friend. "You two, behave, in the meanwhile," she warned, and suddenly he was alone with Mal.

She didn't waste a second, and went to sit on the chair. They exchanged a few looks, and finally, she started talking.

"Well, I'll make this quick," she said, and he knew what was going to happen next. Mal crossed her legs, and looked straight in his eyes. "You hurt Regina, Robin Locksley, and I swear I'm going to chase you anywhere, and your death is going to last for days," she said, with a kind and hard smile.

Robin clenched his jaw. "I would never hurt Regina," he said, and Mal's eyes softened.

"Oh, I know you wouldn't," she told him, "but you could".

He looked at her, opening his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a sound behind him. Regina cleared her throat, and they turned towards her in sync.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, eyes darting from him to Mal.

"Just talking," Mal shrugged, and she got up, approaching the door and squeezing Regina's shoulder. His eyes followed the blonde leaving, and Regina looked at him, puzzled.

He glanced at her, and smiled, getting up to join her. "What happened?" she asked, suspicious.

"Nothing, don't worry," he shook his head, but she wasn't quite convinced. He neared her and pecked her lips, then took her hand. "Really, don't worry," he repeated. "I should probably go now –"

"I thought you were staying for dinner," she said, surprised.

He shook his head, and smiled. "No, really, I should go, I've already stayed too much," he told her, and she made a pouty face, but he just laughed. "And don't look at me like that, silly lady," he said, and pulled her closer.

"Ah, shut up," she murmured, and he felt her pushing on her tiptoes to kiss him – and he forgot of Mal, of the ball and of the dinner, circled her waist, and lifted her a little – she smiled against his lips, then broke the kiss, and leaned her forehead against his. "You're impossible, thief of suitcases," she whispered, and he let out a chuckle.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," she said, and she disentangled herself from his embrace, but kept holding his hand. He followed her outside her room, stopping to grab his jacket, and turned off the light before exiting.

§§§

Regina held his hand, descending the stairs, and they entered the kitchen like that. Granny smiled at them from the counter, and she returned the smile, then looked at Mal – her friend was lightening the candles in the middle of the table, and she lifted her head, eyes flickering up to their hands for a second. She met her gaze, and Mal smiled.

"So, Robin, are you staying for dinner?" asked Granny with a hopeful face.

Regina felt his hand tightening around hers, and looked up at him – he exchanged a look with her, before smiling at the old woman. "I'm afraid not," he answered. "Perhaps, another time"

"Well, you're missing home-made pizza, but it's your choice," she replied, crossing her arms. "Regina, darling, it's almost ready, if you need a moment to say goodbye"

She laughed, and leaned on to squeeze her shoulder. "Don't be crossed," she said, "he'll stay the next time"

Granny eyed them like an old owl, pretending to be angry, and Mal rolled her eyes, lifting the corner of her lips in a fond smile. "He'll better," she said, and she stretched a hand towards Robin. "It was nice to meet you," she said solemnly, and Regina thought she had to hurry and drag him away from the two women, before they ate him alive.

She met his eyes, and he understood, because he smiled at Mal kindly, and waved at Granny one last time before following her outside.

They stopped in front of the door, and she brought up her hands to his cheeks. "Sorry for the overprotective glares," she apologized, and he shook his head, kissing her lips.

"I hope I won't fail the trust Mal places in me"

"And I hope she didn't go too far," she replied. "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Perfect," he agreed, and caressed her cheek one last time before turning to open the door. "Good night, beautiful," he said, and she smiled, watching him go. She leaned on the door, waiting until he turned the corner, and she closed her eyes, a blossom of hope beginning to bud in her chest.


	4. White as an Indian Pipe

_Hi there! First of all, a huge thank you - you know why. And a note: since I've started adding some expressions that aren't in English, from now on there will be a little tiny glossary at the end of the chapters, if you want to understand really everything. Now, without more babbling from me, here we go!  
_

* * *

 _ **White as an Indian pipe**_

 _White as an Indian Pipe  
Red as a Cardinal Flower  
Fabulous as a Moon at Noon  
February Hour—_

Ruby was wolfing down the last remnants of her pizza, and Regina leaned on her chair, feeling satiate and full. "That was awesome, Granny," she told her, and the old woman turned her head to throw her a smile from over her shoulder. She was standing at the counter, busy around four cups of coffee.

"Oh God, I've missed this," sighed Mal, closing her eyes in appreciation.

"Granny has begun with her mission, ladies," announced Ruby, gulping down her last bite. "You'll be two walking pizzas for when you return in America"

"I've never heard you complain about my cooking, you ungrateful lady," scolded Granny. "And they are way too thin, I must do something about that"

Regina met Mal's gaze, and her friend chuckled at her, before assuming a naughty expression. "Well, I hope we won't gain too much weight," she started, "otherwise, Regina won't be able to enter in her dress for the ba –"

"Mal!" exclaimed Regina. She brought up a hand to her forehead – she had told Mal about the ball right before Robin's arrival, forbidding her from bringing up the subject with him, and here she was, her supposed _friend_ , throwing her to the wolves.

Ruby lifted her head from the jar of sugar she was opening – and her eyes widened in excitement. "Oooh, a ball?" she smiled. "You're going to a ball with Robin?"

Regina felt a familiar heat rising up on her cheeks – she blushed slightly, and nodded.

"That's so romantic," sighed Ruby, and Mal laughed. "They're the cheesiest couple I've ever met," she snorted, and Regina forgot about her embarrassment to shoot her an angry glare.

"Excuse me? And what about Mary Margaret and David?"

Mal frowned, almost in disgust. "Okay, but they are so mushy that you can't even hope to reach them, that's why I didn't consider them," she said, and Regina laughed, shaking her head.

Granny placed their coffees on the table and sat, straightening her glasses. "So, a ball, uh? And when that would be?"

"Tuesday night," Regina answered, taking a sip. "But I don't even know how to dress, Mal," she said, and Mal shrugged. "Go out tomorrow and buy something," she suggested.

"Shops are closed tomorrow," Ruby informed. "But I might have a solution…"

§§§

That night, Regina collapsed on her bed and closed her eyes. She was feeling blissfully relaxed and happy, increasingly excited about the ball, and lost in an enjoyable after-dinner numbness. She heard Mal entering casually and falling next to her.

"Don't you have a room of your own, Mal?" she asked, faking annoyance, without opening her eyes.

"Yes, but I like bothering you," Mal answered, and she felt the bed move under her weight – she turned her head and looked at her, she was stretching an arm towards the desk to take one of her books. She spied at the cover – it was _Carol_ , and Mal opened it, turning a few pages.

"Don't even think about stealing it," scoffed Regina. "I've just started reading!"

"Well, can I have it on Tuesday night then? While you are busy getting all disheveled with Robin?"

"I'm not… getting disheveled," she protested. "Well, maybe yes, but you really can't think of a better term?"

"Whatever," Mal rolled her eyes. "Is it serious then?"

Regina lifted her gaze to the painted ceiling, and fixated it on a cloud. "I like him," she admitted. "He… he's kind, and caring, and…"

"And you've met him two days ago," pointed out Mal, playing absently with her bookmark.

"I know," Regina answered quietly.

"Did you tell Emma?"

"No," she said. "And I would ask you… to avoid telling her, for now," she added, and she pulled on her elbows to gain a semi-sitting position.

"Okay," Mal answered. "It's a good thing Granny doesn't have her number…"

"Oh, I imagine," she laughed. "Didn't you say there was going to be her husband too, this evening?"

"Yes, but apparently he'll come back tomorrow," Mal rolled on the bed and got on her feet. "I think I'll need my beauty sleep now," she announced, replacing the book down. Regina smiled and waved goodbye to her friend, then reached for her phone on the night table.

She called Robin – he told her that they couldn't meet neither the following day nor on Tuesday, because he had a project to finish.

" _But we'll meet on evening, of course_ ," he said, and she smiled at the phone.

"How come that you have so much work?" she asked, and she heard him sigh.

" _You know, my boss? The one who hosts the ball?_ "

"Yes?"

" _Well, she has decided she wants the projects on her desk by Wednesday at noon, and so… I think you'll forgive me if I work hard for two days,_ _so that I can be free to enjoy your company_ " he chuckled, and Regina grinned.

"I think I can forgive you, yes," she whispered. "But I'd like to have a word with your boss anyway,"

" _Sounds fair_ ," he said. " _But I feel I'll have to make up to you_ ,"

"I think we could arrange that," she smiled. "Are you planning on… something special, Mr Locksley?"

" _I have a thing or two in mind, yes_ ," he murmured, and she almost trembled, because he had suddenly gone all flirty.

"Oh, really?" she lowered her voice, keeping his game up. "Maybe I have something planned too…"

" _Going naughty already, Miss Mills?_ " he whispered, and she nearly laughed – the long, painful and head-spinning day she had just spent was starting to color her voice in an exhausted giddiness, and oh, she just couldn't wait for the ball to be over, when she would get the chance of showing him how _naughty_ she could be…

"Don't do this over the phone, Robin," she warned, with just a hint of malice.

" _Do what?_ " he said, not-so-innocently.

"Don't flirt with me while I can't shut you up," she answered. "A lady must always have the last word, doesn't she?"

" _Just because I'm incredibly gallant, doesn't mean I'm going to let you shut me up_ ," he announced, and she hummed in response. " _Anyway, maybe yes, but just because it's you... I'm quite fond of that witty tongue of yours…_ "

"Oh, I'm sure you're fond of my _tongue_ of all things," she played along.

" _There are many things I find endearing about you, Regina_ ," he whispered in her ear, and she pressed the phone against her skin – it was already burning…

"Well, perhaps you could write me down a list?" she joked, and he laughed in return. They continued for a while, exchanging whispers and flirty comments, and later, just talking… At some point, Regina stifled a yawn – she regretted it immediately, as soon as the sound reached the phone.

" _I should let you sleep_ ," he said with a trace of guilt.

"No, don't worry," she hurried to answer. "Ruby says tomorrow I can sleep late… we are going in a quest for my dress," she smiled.

" _Oh, that's quite the mission_ ," he praised. " _But still, you had a though day, milady, we wouldn't want you half asleep, right?_ "

"I suppose not," she agreed reluctantly. "Good night then… and thanks for coming to see me," she added.

" _It was my pleasure_ ," he assured. " _Good night, beautiful_ "

She whispered one last _Night_ before ending the call, and she tossed the phone beside her, staring at the now-dark ceiling.

§§§

Monday came, along with a soothing smell of coffee that slithered right in her room – she opened her eyes in the dull light of the morning, not so strong – her window faced the west.

She jumped down the stairs, all good mood and smiles, and Mal didn't fail to make her notice it. "What happened to your resting bitch face, darling?" she asked – she was wrapped in a violet robe, hair fresh of shower, and she was clinging to her cup of coffee as if it contained her vital essence.

"It's sunny outside," she shrugged, turning her back to the table so that she couldn't see her smile, and pouring herself some tea.

"Morning!" greeted Ruby, already clad in jeans and black leather. She leaned on the table and stole a piece of cake – and gulped down a glass of orange juice, then headed to the door. "Regina, I'm going out to buy some things, will you be ready in half an hour?"

"Sure," she nodded, and Ruby disappeared outside after a last _bye!_.

Mal was scrutinizing her, and she kept avoiding her gaze. The knife slid easily across the pie, and she cut herself a generous slice, started to chew it, but after a few seconds, she couldn't help but meeting Mal's eyes. "Come on, what is it?"

"Nothing," shrugged Mal, with a kind smile. "It's just good to see you happy, that's all,"

Regina smiled back, she _was_ feeling happy – a welcomed sensation, after so much time, she was in a good place with herself, and maybe, _maybe_ , this thing with Robin was actually going somewhere, maybe that morning she was starting to hope again, maybe his words from the night before were real…

"Thanks," she said earnestly. She reached for her hand, and squeezed it, before turning her attention to the pie again. "So, blueberry, isn't it?"

"Granny's favorite," nodded Mal, taking one last sip of coffee and getting up. "Don't you like it?"

"It's not bad," considered Regina, and she gulped down another bite. "But I prefer apples,"

"And then apples you shall have," announced Granny's voice from behind her. She turned, facing her, embarrassment already coloring her cheeks – she was not alone, beside her a tall, old man, with kind eyes and a trace of beard on his cheeks.

"Granny, the pie is phenomenal –" she tried, but the old woman was smiling, shaking her head. "I know," she cut short, and without losing other time or listening to her apologies, she motioned towards the man. "This is Marco, my husband," she announced, and Regina smiled at him. "Marco, you already know Mallory, obviously," she continued, and Mal leaned on to kiss his cheek.

Granny pointed at her, "And this is Regina Mills, Mallory's friend," she introduced, and Regina extended a hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it up and kissed her knuckles gallantly. "It's a pleasure, _Maestà_ ," he said, switching to Italian at the middle of the sentence – she laughed, quite sure of having understood, and he continued, "Maria, you didn't tell me we hosted a queen here," and Granny shook her head.

"Don't you think you're a bit old for all this flirting with young ladies?" she asked playfully – Regina heard Mal scoffing behind her hand.

"You're never too old for complimenting a woman, I'll have you know," he answered in the same tone.

"Sure, sure," dismissed Granny, with a roll of her eyes.

Regina smirked at Mal, whispering "Are they always like this?" to the blonde, who sighed, "You should see them when they're cooking together…"

§§§

Half an hour later, she was following Ruby out of the ferry boat, which in Venice corresponded to a normal bus – Ruby had called it a _vaporetto_ , and pointed her other boats floating in the Grand Canal. "That's a _gondola_ ," she said, and Regina turned her gaze towards a black rowing boat, with an elegantly shaped prow and a man standing up – he was talking to the passengers and pushing a long oar in the water. "But the ferry is cheaper, and not nearly as romantic," she continued.

"Have you already tried a gondola with Peter?" asked Regina, hiding a smile – she wasn't the only one who had to go through those questions, after all – but Ruby laughed, not embarrassed in the slightest.

"I'm afraid I'm not very much into men," she said, "and Peter is pretty taken with a certain Billy guy who works at the hotel with him…"

"Oh," nodded Regina. "So… do you have a lady love?"

Ruby adjusted her hat, and cleared her throat. "Uhm… yes… sort of," she admitted. "It's only fair for you to know, given that we all know of your story," she added. "And you'll meet her in two seconds, anyway," she said, stopping in front of a shop.

"We're already here?" Regina lifted her gaze to the sign – _Chez Rose_ , it said – and turned towards Ruby, but the young woman was already crossing the threshold. The wind-chime hung above the door jingled, and she followed her inside. The shop was quite small – or maybe it was only a matter of perspective, because all the available space was currently taken by dresses. White wedding dresses, with glittery details and soft veils, short black dresses, magnificent cascades of silk, and all sorts of fabrics and colors, small cloth samples pinned to the wall… she was lost in contemplation, and she nearly missed the arrival of Ruby's girlfriend.

She was undoubtedly beautiful – a rare kind of beauty, coming straight from a dream – a young woman dressed in coral, a tape placed around her neck and a pair of scissors appearing from the pocket of her smock.

She approached Ruby and pecked her lips with a smile – Ruby blushed, but Regina smiled, and the young woman turned towards her. "Good morning," she greeted, with a thick French accent. "You must be Regina – I'm Aurora," she said, the _R_ s rolling on her tongue, and they shook hands – she had a plaster around her finger.

"Nice to meet you," Regina answered. "What happened to your finger?"

"Oh, this?" Aurora shook her head. "Yesterday evening I was half asleep and I've accidentally stung myself with a needle… but it's part of the job, isn't it?" she smiled. "Now, Ruby tells me you need a dress?"

"Exactly," Regina said, her gaze running again to the dresses. "For a… masquerade ball,"

"Interesting," Aurora answered. "Well, follow me – I'll bring you where we keep the hidden stuff," she announced, and turned to pass a purple curtain. She went after Ruby – the brocade caressed Regina's hand, and she emerged into a room that was possibly smaller than the principal one. There, was standing another woman, busy around a mannequin. She lifted her eyes – she practically was Aurora's older version.

" _Maman, Ruby est arrivée_ ," Aurora announced, who was already walking towards them and kissing Ruby on the cheek. "Good morning, Rose," said the young woman, and Rose squeezed her hand before turning to face Regina.

" _Et elle s'appelle Regina_ ," Aurora introduced her, and she was surprised to see Rose leaning on to kiss her too. " _Bonjour_ ," she said, "you must be Maria's new girl!"

"I am," she confirmed. "You're Aurora's mother? You're so similar,"

"I know," Rose laughed. "So, what kind of dress do you want?"

Regina hesitated – she hadn't thought about that. She only had her mask, the mask he had given her, but that wasn't really a help… three women were staring at her expectantly, so she cleared her throat. "I… I think…" she let her gaze wander, avoiding their eyes, and then – then she was struck.

"I think I know what I want".

The morning went by in a blur, with Aurora and Rose measuring her waistline, her height, the length of her legs and every other sort of things, with Ruby throwing casual comments from a stool where she was perched – and she was a great help, because her remarks brought Rose to modify some details of the dress and adjust the little diamonds on her waist.

Regina was feeling like a doll in their arms – but they were very good, and expert, and they were enjoying themselves.

"We don't have many occasions to use this kind of garments," commented Aurora, motioning for her to bring her arms up. "We sell them, of course – you wouldn't imagine how many wealthy ladies buy our ball gowns for no other purpose than exposing them in their house! But this is much more fun," she beamed. " _No, maman, c'est trop court_ – because you'll actually get to wear it!"

"Is it the ball at Villa Fisher, Regina?" asked Rose, her mouth half-closed – she was holding some pins between her lips.

"Yes," Regina answered, trying not to lower her arms, even if they were starting to get painfully sore. "But I don't know the owner, I'm afraid,"

"Oh, I've heard some interesting things about her – _Aurora, chérie, passe-moi le métre_ – you just wait and see," said Rose mischievously.

"Yeah, no pressure, Regina," Ruby smiled from behind her phone. "How much do you have left to do? Granny asks if she can start with lunch,"

"Oh, almost done," answered Aurora. She fixated one last pin – and she took two steps back, taking in her figure. "Oh, look at you!"

Regina turned slowly, the smooth fabric swishing at the movement, and finally she could see the dress in its entirety. The woman in the mirror was so different – so _regal_ – that she held her breath for a second.

It was red. A crimson shade of red, more precisely. She had her shoulders bare, her hands sinking in the velvet of her gown. She looked at her neckline – Aurora had fixated two red feathers to the middle, and they were invisibly pinned at their sides, so that they went from the center to her forearms with a graceful twist at the end. A single heart-shaped diamond was encrusted between her breasts, holding the feathers together. The corset was tight – and laced on her back, it was squeezing her chest without being too painful. Shiny and red diamonds were embodied in an elegant pattern around her waist; they formed a V-shape going down to the beginning of the gown. Under the diamonds, a layer of organdy had been draped to cover the velvet, and it was silky at the touch. She turned to see her back – the reddish laces were loosely falling down, but there was a puffy bow at the end of the corset. The feathers tickled her skin as she turned again.

" _Une vraie reine_ ," commented Rose from behind, with all the pride of a well-done job. And for a moment, she felt her own beauty, too. _A true queen, indeed_.

§§§

In the afternoon, Mal went with her for some shopping, and she bought her lacey lingerie to put under the dress – all black, and the bra was strapless, because her shoulders were going to be uncovered. Then, it was dinner time, a light meal, as Granny had called it – but anyway, Regina made a mental note to weigh herself, later that day.

Ruby had decided to stay home, that evening, because it was raining, and suddenly the prospect of a _Game of Thrones_ rerun was much more tempting – so Regina found herself sitting on the sofa, under a blanket, discussing of Westeros and political showdowns with her and Mal. They spent the entirety of a sex scene talking about the Houses – Ruby was quite fond of the Starks, which could have brought to a potential conflict with Regina, because she parted for the Lannisters. Mal backed down, admitting she liked the Targaryens – " _I mean, Daenerys has_ dragons _, just wait until she reaches Westeros_ " – but they all agreed upon the strategical superiority of Varys and Littlefinger.

After the third episode, it was midnight, so Mal and Regina climbed the stairs and placed themselves on Regina's bed, took her laptop, and called Emma on Skype.

The image was blurry at first, but then they spotted a familiar head – and they heard Henry's excited voice. " _Let me see, mom!_ " he was saying, and finally Emma and Henry appeared.

"Hello there, little prince," greeted Regina, and oh, Henry seemed so grown up, even if she had seen him on Friday…

"Hi, Aunt Regina! And Auntie Mal!"

"How are you, little one?" smiled Mal.

Henry turned towards Emma, his best version of pleading eyes on display, and said "Can I tell them, mom? Please?"

Emma glanced at Regina and Mal, and took a breath before nodding. "Okay, go ahead, kid," she answered. Regina wondered what could it be – Emma seemed worried… of their reaction? The previous day, she had left Regina a very excited and very drunk message, but with all the sickness, and Robin, and the dress, she had completely forgot to call her.

Henry smiled proudly, and looked at them, and finally burst out: "Mom and Killian are getting married!"

Regina felt a smile cracking open on her face, while Mal, next to her, let out a very exasperated "And it was about time!"

"Oh, Henry, it's wonderful," she said, and Henry nodded eagerly – Emma was still looking at them, but she turned her head to kiss his cheek. "Kid, I need to talk to your aunts for a moment, could you go and play for a bit?"

"But we just started!" he protested, but Emma was quick to convince him, "Just a second, then you can come and say hello, alright?"

He nodded, and waved at them before running away. Emma turned reluctantly to face them, and she bit her lip, "Well?"

"I wasn't lying to him, Emma," said Regina, "it's truly wonderful,"

"I bet Mary Margaret has already started with the wedding arrangements," snorted Mal.

"Uhm, yes," Emma began to smile, now that she was convinced her friends weren't going to put up a horrified show. "Regina, as my Maid of Honor, how are you feeling about a… pink dress?"

"Over your dead body," she shivered, as Mal was practically dying of laughter on the bed – but she suddenly stopped, when Emma said "And for you, there's pink as well, Mal," and this time, it was Regina's turn to laugh.

§§§

She slept late, on Tuesday morning. And when she woke up, there was a trail with hot chocolate and cookies on her night table, a missed call from Robin on her phone, and her dress was standing in her room, kindly sent from Aurora, with a note – _Don't forget the shawl_. She looked into a zipped bag, where Aurora had packed a simple red piece of organdy to cover her shoulders.

The thought of the ball was getting more and more real. She sat on the bed and bit a cookie, staring at the dress, and she chewed slowly. It had all been like a wonderful dream, but now there were nine hours left to that moment, and she was starting to get worried. She liked Robin, and very much so. She was still wondering about the strange course of events that had brought them to meet.

She knew what Emma would have said. _Go and get him, for heaven's sake, Regina_ , and she could almost hear the blonde's voice. _What are you waiting for?_

Mary Margaret was another story. Her fairytale wedding with David was a story from children tales, and her friend, sometimes, looked at the world with a naivety she almost envied. The belief there always was hope for everyone, another chance, or happiness, or a new _life_. She knew Mary Margaret would have said _Oh, isn't it romantic? Love at first sight…_

Regina had never been fond of one-date things. Mal was more like that, _get some sex and morning cuddles, drink some coffee and then go_. It didn't work for her. It didn't feel right. She had done it, when she was younger, before of Daniel, but it didn't feel right. For her heart.

 _Could he keep good care of my heart?_

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" Mal's voice startled her, and her eyes flew towards her friend, she gulped. "Come on, lunch's ready!"

"I'm having breakfast," she protested, lifting the cookie.

"Screw that, Granny made pasta with fish, come on," urged Mal, and Regina groaned, slipping down the bed with a sleepy moan. She walked past her, heading to the bathroom, and had to bear five minutes of Mal tapping her feet, impatient – until she finally exited, and glared at her.

"Stop rushing me," she threatened jokingly, closing the door.

"Darling, I have a plate full of calamari waiting for me – something I've craved for _years_ , I'll have you know – and your lazy attitude won't certainly keep me up here any longer –"

"Alright!" she cut in, amused. "Years?"

"Years," Mal looked up, with an inspired face. "The flavors from my childhood…"

And after having gulped down the first bite, Regina thought that she would have craved that dish for years, too.

After lunch, fire was cracking pleasantly in the fireplace, and they were all splayed on the sofa. Granny was still busy in the kitchen, drying the last dishes and exchanging affectionate whispers with Marco. Mal was dozing off – her feet dangling lazily from the armchair, her head on a pillow, and a satiated expression on her face. Regina was curled up next to her, she had picked up _Carol_ – but the words were starting to dance under her eyes, and she found herself re-reading the same paragraph for the fifth time. She placed her chin above a closed fist and squeezed her eyes, trying to focus…

 _It was the dress of queens in fairy tales, of a red deeper than blood. She stepped back, and pulled the looseness of the dress behind her, so it fitted her ribs and her waist, and she looked back at her own dark hazel eyes in the mirror. Herself meeting herself…_

She had to call Robin, she thought, and she had to get ready, and maybe unpack her suitcase – put the frame with the picture of Emma and Henry on her night table, iron her best skirt before the trial – oh, and she had to call Mary Margaret and forbid her to use any shade of pink for the wedding, and she had to buy Henry a present, and mail Gold those last reports, and…

"Regina?" Ruby's voice startled her, and she lifted her eyes to the young brunette. "Do you need some help with… you know… the make-up?" she asked, almost timidly. Regina smiled, closing the book and pushing with a hand against the armchair to get up.

"Sure," she answered, and Ruby's eyes lightened in a sparkly excitement. "I'm afraid I didn't bring enough of red eye shadow for this kind of thing, anyway," she continued.

"Oh, you can't use red, it wouldn't look great," Ruby told her. She followed her upstairs, while she kept talking. "You'll need gold, or a smoky shade of black, or…"

§§§

In the end, Ruby chose white, but it was almost covered by the mask. She had enjoyed the afternoon – her hair had been the most difficult part of the task, but now it was all curled in soft waves, adjusted gently over her left shoulder. Mal had popped up at some point, sitting on the edge of the bathtub while Ruby was washing away the remnants of some kind of cream from her face. The blonde passed her a sandwich – _Granny figured you'll need something in your stomach, unless you want to faint_ – and then slipped away towards her room.

Regina found in Ruby a pleasant company – she had kept her distracted during the wax process, by telling her about her university, her mother who was living in the US, about Aurora – she had met her during a seminar about the photography of dresses in the movies – and about her grandma's B&B. Regina discovered that the place was composed by two buildings, as she had seen on Sunday, one for the family, one for the guests, and that she was currently sleeping in Anita's old room.

At half past eight, she descended the staircase, folding the dress to keep it from going under her heels, and received all the compliments from Granny, an approving roll of eyes from Mal, and Marco offered her a hand, "Shall we go?"

She waved at the three women, smiled at Ruby. "Thank you, really," she told her, and the brunette smiled back, shouting one last _Have fun!_ before closing the door against the crispy air. Regina tightened the fabric of the shawl around her shoulders and followed Marco – he helped her get on his boat, and took the oar.

Venice slid at her sides, and she stared into the night, the lights glimmering over the water, tiny dots of yellow and white on a black liquid expanse. The oar was thudding softly, breaking the pools of lights every now and then, and Marco was hummering…

 _When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that's amore… when the world seems to shine, like you've had too much wine, that's amore…_

She shook her head, when the boat hurt the rocky edge of the bank, and the magic was broken. Marco turned towards her, "Here we are, your majesty," he bowed, and she lifted her gaze to the house – the palace, the enormous building, shining of candles and flashing lights.

"Thank you," she told him, and he helped her get down the boat – it rolled dangerously, but he kept it steady, and soon she was on solid ground.

"Good luck, for this evening," he smiled, and waved one last time before pushing the oar against the bank, and letting the waves transport him away.

She watched him for a moment – then she searched in her purse and took her phone. A message from Mal…

 _Stolen your book. Enjoy the ball! And… a final advice, right from the trailer of 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2': "Eyes open, knees shut. If your knees are open, shut your eyes!"_

She shook her head, before shooting her a quick answer – _Since when does Emma Swan control your mind?_ – and then she called Robin.

"Hey," she burst out as soon as he picked up the phone. Anxiety and excitement had her fidgeting with her ring, she kept turning it around her finger. "Are you here?"

" _I am,_ " he confirmed, and she immediately lifted his eyes, trying to spot him amidst the crowd currently gathering in front of the main gate. " _But now we have a problem,_ " he said solemnly.

Regina bit her lower lip; probably ruining the lipstick so carefully applied by Ruby, and tightened her hold on the phone. "What kind of problem?"

" _Well, I can see you_ ," he told her, and she inspected the crowd even more. " _And I'm afraid that the lady I've invited to the ball is going to be terribly jealous, because you are … absolutely beautiful_ "

She scoffed, then, "Oh, shut up," she laughed. "Your… _lady_ … she can't be that bad," she tried to joke.

"Actually, she can," his voice came from behind her, and she turned – black mask, black dress, here he stood, and she widened her eyes – he was holding a white blossom, a rose, and smiling cheekily from behind his mask. He neared her, offering the flower, and she gladly took it, and inhaled the perfume.

"She _is_ that bad," he whispered, and his mouth was near her ear now. "That dress is a sin, milady, and I believe you wore it to drive me mad, on purpose,"

"Well, I couldn't come naked," she reasoned, and he smiled, before turning his head and capturing her lips in a kiss. His smell was tantalizing, and she felt it mixing with her own scent, as he brought up a hand to her neck, and she continued to kiss him, until he parted with a sigh.

"I'd rather stay here all night with you," he told her, and she smiled.

"I believe I was promised a ball," she replied, and playing the true gentleman, he slipped his arm behind hers, with one last peck on her temple.

"Shall we go, then?" he said sadly, and she laughed at his fake desperation.

"Lead the way".

* * *

 _Lost in translation_

Maestà (it): Majesty  
Maman, Ruby est arrivée (fr): Mom, Ruby's arrived  
Et elle s'appelle Regina (fr): And she's Regina  
Non, maman, c'est trop court (fr): No, mom, it's too short  
Aurora, chérie, passe-moi le métre (fr): Aurora, darling, give me the tape


	5. Wild nights - Wild nights!

_Hello you all - first, the most pressing matter: now that I've almost stopped grieving (you all know why), I've finally re-started with this story, and I'm not abandoning it - if there's a delay, that's because of uni or life or life and uni or simply because I'm lazy. Huge thanks to Alexia, Sarah, Sasha, Lisa and Anastasia for kicking me into this - I was very stressed about this chapter, so I've decided to split it. That's the first part of the ball - I hope to be able to upload the second soon :)  
One last thing, raise your glasses one last time for Robin, because I could write 10k words about unfairness and rage and tears, but the most beautiful way to honor their story is being able to write and read them even after what happened.  
Now, shall we dance?  
_

* * *

 _ **Wild nights - Wild nights!  
**_

 _Wild nights - Wild nights!  
Were I with thee  
Wild nights should be  
Our luxury! _

_Futile - the winds -  
To a Heart in port -  
Done with the Compass -  
Done with the Chart!_

 _Rowing in Eden -  
Ah - the Sea!  
Might I but moor - tonight -  
In thee!_

Robin's arm was firm under hers, as they advanced towards the main gate. Maybe he was talking to her – a corner of her mind listened to him, but her attention was almost completely taken by her surroundings. The guests had clearly displayed their best outfits for the evening, and all she could see were masks, glimmering gowns, half-arm gloves and rustling dresses. She could hear the music, still muffled by the loud chattering of the people standing outside, the sound of – violins? She couldn't tell, but it was soft, with occasional crescendos.

Five or six queues were unfurling in front of the door – she saw three tall valets checking the invitations, a young woman was shivering and clinging to her chaperon, another man was laughing as a lady with curly hair smacked playfully his arm with her lacey fan.

"Regina?"

His voice startled her slightly, and she turned her head towards him, guilt washing over her face.

"Mmm?"

"Were you listening?" he asked her with an amused smile.

"Oh, yes – no, sorry," she admitted. "Sorry, it's just… a lot to take in, all at once," she tried to explain. He nodded, and slid his arm to lace their fingers. His hand was warm, and she focused on that, rather than on the brisk whispers of the wind on her shoulders.

"Yes, I imagine," he agreed, leaning on to take her white rose. He left her held for a moment, lifted the blossom to her hair and secured it under one of her pins, so it would stand out against her dark hair. The queue was moving quickly – only one or two couples left, and then it was their turn. She let him fumble with the invitations, trying to catch a glimpse of the inside. There was a darkened foyer, between the door and the dance hall, and when – finally – the valet let them pass, she just strengthened her held on his hand and let him guide her in the main room.

Now, the music was louder – definitely violins, and she lifted carefully her dress, her heels ticking on the marble of the floor.

"Well?" Robin asked her, smiling, and a random thought faded away in her mind – _he must have already been here_ – but she paid it no attention, too busy observing the room.

At the other end of the room, at the same level of the first floor, there was a corridor, and she had to lift her eyes up - two majestic staircases started from the ends of the corridor and formed a round-shaped frame, flowers adorning the balustrade all the way down to the ground: green ivy ribbons, white and red and blue roses, yellow spots of wild dandelions, pink tulips.

The source of the music was sitting under the stairs – violins, a piano in a corner, an harp and some flutes, the musicians where in all black, and probably still rehearsing. She had always loved this part, when the music wasn't quite music yet, but rather a delicate dusting of the instruments, trying a few notes, sometimes out of tune.

Her gaze flew to the ceiling – high and painted, of ancient marble and frescos, the walls of the same style with clean large windows on both sides, the moon shining through one of them. Three crystal chandeliers, the one in the middle much larger than the others. The windows started from the ceiling down towards the floor, stopping just before the tables that had been pushed against the walls. Covered in white linen, with silver candelabras throwing shadows on the plates, they had been settled with trays of food and carafes and bowls of punch and chocolate desserts.

The room was already half-crowded – she was feeling as if she was time-traveling, in a land of beautiful and mysterious ladies and spies, and hidden secrets, night lovers, forbidden dreams. A long forgotten tale rose again in her heart, and she was vaguely aware of Robin's hand around hers, her eyes probably shining behind her mask.

"How…" the words caught in her throat, and she gulped before trying again. "How _much_ rich is your boss, exactly?"

Robin let out a heartfelt laugh, looking at her amazed face. "Grossly rich, milady," he answered. "Now that you mention it, I should probably go and find her before it's too la –"

"There you are, Locksley!" a crystalline voice interrupted him, and they both turned at the sound. The woman sliding towards them was tall and blonde – not a honey blonde like Mal, but rather a silver-platinum shade, hair twisted in an elegant bun. Her dress was also silver, icy white, simple and fitting, with only a crystal necklace as a jewel, and a pearly mask.

Robin ducked his head cheekily, and answered with a simple "Good evening, boss," which had her scoff and smile at him.

"Don't call me that, please," she scolded with a low voice. "I didn't think you'd come to this little party of ours, Robin," she added, eyeing Regina with a curious glance.

"Couldn't let you steal all the fun, right?" he said. "Oh, right. Introductions first – this is Ingrid Fisher," he told Regina, motioning towards the woman, "the bossy woman who makes me, and I quote, _work so much_ ," he smiled, and she felt her cheeks flush in a split second.

"And Ingrid, this is my queen of feathers, and partner in crime, Regina Mills" he added, and Ingrid extended a hand towards her with a lazy smile. She shook it – almost shivering, because her hands were cold – and exchanged the smile.

"It's nice to meet you," she told her kindly. "This place is amazing, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," she said. "We don't usually come in Venice often, but the Carnival Dance it's been a tradition since my grandfather lived here, so…"

"So you combined business with pleasure and dragged all us here," Robin ended, and Ingrid glared at him with fake annoyance.

"Oh, stop complaining, Locksley, or your lady here will think you don't enjoy her company."

Regina felt Robin's hand move – he placed it on the small of her back, under the ribbons of her corset. He rubbed soothingly for a second, and she exchanged a quick glance with him before answering.

"No, I think his _lady_ here is rather impatient to start dancing, if I have to be honest," she beamed at Ingrid, and the woman narrowed her eyes. Regina thought she probably wasn't used to someone contradicting her.

"Ah, I think that can be arranged, in a matter of minutes," she answered diplomatically. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go and talk to that annoying Duke, before of my speech," and she cocked her head, as Robin murmured a _Sure_.

Once she had faded away, Regina bit her lip, throwing him a worried look. "Too much?"

He shook his head, with the ghost of a smile, and kissed her temple behind the feathers of the mask. "Don't worry, she can take some of your sarcasm every now and then," he whispered. "So, what do you think?"

She hummed, because she could still feel his breath on her hair. "Well, she's… interesting," she said, a pleasant thrill going through her spine, because now he had his lips pressed just near her ear. "My… father… said we shouldn't judge someone without knowing the whole story… and I… _ah_ … I think he's right," she added, only slightly distracted by his hands circling her waist.

"I'd like to meet him someday, I bet he's a wise man," he answered, and she smiled fondly, parting their contact to look at him.

"I'm afraid you're too late, thief," she told him. "He died four years ago…"

She watched as his face fell, guilt and sorrow painted clearly on his face, and she shook her head before he could even open his mouth to apologize. "Don't worry," she rushed to tell him. "It's okay, I've made peace with that – it was four years ago, I was with him and he didn't suffer, so…"

"I'm sorry," he said, regardless of her efforts. "I shouldn't have…"

"You didn't know, don't worry," she felt a sudden wave of affection, she didn't know if it was for how he cared for her feelings – or for how he was currently looking at her. "Besides, I have another Henry in my life now," she smiled, and he took a puzzled frown.

"Your father had the same name as your godson?"

"Emma named him after my father, yes," she answered – he had his hand intertwined with hers again, and she passed her thumb over his knuckles. "He was born one month after his death, but that is a long story for another time," she smiled, and he nodded, squeezing her hand.

"You certainly have a curious past, Regina," he said, and she laughed, then, because he hadn't even begun to _scratch_ the surface of her past, and yet she was already feeling so lured by him…

The rough attempts of music suddenly stopped, and they turned at the same time towards the stairs – Ingrid had climbed two steps, and was taking a microphone from an attendant.

"Good evening," she whispered, and yet her words resounded clearly and perfectly in every corner. Robin shifted, as he had already done before, to move behind her, and she leaned on his body, his hands crossed above her stomach, and they settled themselves to listen to the speech.

"As you all can see, even this year we maintain the ancient tradition of the Carnival Dance, as was started by my grandfather more than one century ago," Ingrid began, all eyes oriented towards her. "My sisters and I, however, have decided for a change, this year. For the 100th anniversary of my grandfather's marriage, which happens to coincide with another joyful circumstance for my family, all the revenues from this evening shall be invested in research.

It is our desire to draw attention upon a particular disease. For this reason, and for the first time since this ball was held, this evening we have allowed to the press to be here – I have to thank my sisters about this, because I admit that without their strength and work of persuasion I would have never agreed.

I am sure all of you are well aware of the worrying increase of health issues such as breast cancer or sexually transmitted diseases. However, we have decided to address your attention to other health issues, which are often concealed and satirized."

Regina lifted a hand to cover Robin's arm, and he squeezed a little, his breath moving softly her feathers. Ingrid, in the meanwhile, had stopped talking for a moment, and she took a deep breath before going on.

"I am talking of a mental disease called anxiety. I know it won't seem so worrying, form its name, I know most of you are thinking that you are often anxious or worried, but believe me if I tell you, it's absolutely and deeply different. Maybe you are suffering of a serious manifestation of anxiety and you don't even know it.

I am here right now, because I believe it is important to have a true representation of this problem. Because – because I have tried it on my skin. Yes," she nodded, well aware of the complete silence in the room. "It was a real hold-back in many situations, and it still is. My current job forces me to put it aside, but it's always there. If it wasn't for my family, the little girl I was would have never gone outside of her bedroom. I lost many of these balls – my sisters getting ready, and I would prefer a quiet evening in my room," she smiled fondly towards two women, one in pink, the other in light blue.

"In my mind, I like to call it my ice monster. That's my sensation when I feel it. Because I feel paralyzed and frozen, and I know some of you already fight this, and it's not always easy to explain. But I'm firmly convinced we can fight it. With helps, therapy and research. With the closeness of our beloved ones. So, if you can help, if you want information, we'll be more than happy to provide it."

She stopped, but before she could speak again, from the first rows had started an applause, and Robin had to leave his comforting position to join it – she felt the sudden loss of his hands, and his chuckle against her hair. "I had no idea of this," he murmured, "she is very good at concealing it,"

"Or maybe you simply don't make her feel anxious," she suggested, and he nodded.

The applause calmed down, and Ingrid could start to speak again.

"As for less serious and happier news, we are also here tonight to celebrate, and to make an announcement," she said. "My niece Anna and her husband, Kristoff, have just informed us that during this summer there will be a new addiction to our family, because they are expecting a baby. Please, join me in wishing them all our love and happiness, and joy for this young and wonderful little one."

Again, a new rush of applauses started, and Regina watched as a young girl in green with a tall, handsome man reached Ingrid and embraced her, and Ingrid smiled against Anna's shoulder. Her heart clenched at the sight – _a new baby_ , she thought, aware that Robin had took her hand after his cheers, and she couldn't help but feel a long-forgotten discomfort, and Henry's face flashed in her mind, Emma's face, Daniel, – but then she had spotted a familiar face near Ingrid's sisters, and her mouth opened for the surprise.

"What is it?" Robin asked her, concerned.

"Do you see that girl, blonde, pale blue dress, next to Ingrid?"

"Yes?"

"She works with me," Regina told him. She couldn't be mistaken; it really was Elsa, up there with her – her family? Now that she was thinking about it, Elsa _had_ mentioned a sister once or twice, but she was way too shy to open up more, and anyway, she had only worked for Gold since September by then. _So, sweet little Elsa has quite the royal family_ , she smiled inwardly.

"Well that's an interesting coincidence," he said. "You didn't know?"

"I wouldn't have dropped my jaw if I did, would I?" she answered, and he smiled – he did never flinch to her attempts to sass him, just throw at her that infuriating smile, a _you're-so-cute-and-funny_ grin painted on his face.

She shook her head, smiling fondly, and nearly missed Ingrid's new announcement, something that sounded a lot like _Let the dances begin_.

"It seems to me you were _impatient_ for this moment, do I remember well?" he turned towards her, the music was starting to rise, and the lights of the ceiling were being dulled until there was only the golden glow of the candles left – and flames were trembling everywhere, and suddenly the world was made of shadows and flickers of light.

The new melody rolled around them, and Regina took him by the arm. "Yes, you do," she whispered, because the ambiance had shifted from laughs and noise to music and shining spots.

It was a waltz – memories of her youth, and all the dance lessons her mother had forced her to take, flooded through her mind, but she pushed those thoughts aside, and focused on Robin's arm that had shifted towards her hip. He was now facing her, and she met his eyes.

"Who told you I'll let you lead, thief?" she asked playfully, biting her lower lip. He glanced at her, and laced their fingers, lifting her hand.

"Chivalry code?" he tempted, and she shook her head, the other couples were already starting to move.

"Fine, but don't get used to it," she warned, and he cocked his head in a semi-bow. Then, he pulled her closer, and probably, her dress was like a spot of crimson red against a black shadow. They started to move slowly – the notes were still building up a rhythm, and she neared her head to his shoulder.

Steps came easily, and he led her just as easily, _one, two, three_ , she counted in her head, but then, the waltz increased its volume, and she simply let herself go in his arms. It was stunning, how effortlessly they'd found a common pace, and all she could see was his eyes, bright behind the mask.

 _Daniel was terrible at this_ , she thought with a fond smile, as he made her swirl, her head spinning after two turns, and she closed her eyes, feeling his breath against her ear when she returned close.

"Didn't think you were _this_ good," he told her, she could see he had lifted an eyebrow, even in the dull light of the candles.

"I have many hidden talents, I'll have you know, thank you," she answered then, pretending to be offended.

"Well, _The Blue Danube_ is quite the easy song to dance, don't you think?"

"Just take me to the club, and I'll show you the easy songs to dance," she said after a particularly dangerous rotation, that had her almost hit an elderly lady. She had noticed how, when they passed, the other couples tended to make space for them, but she blamed the volume of her gown rather than their eagerness.

Robin laughed, apparently finding her answer very funny, and tightened his grip on her hand, their bodies now close and then apart, and then close again. She smiled, gaze fixated on a point behind his shoulder – then the song was over, and everybody was slowing down, and politely clapping to the musicians.

They stopped too, and he motioned a slight bow in her direction. "Shall we go and drink something?"

Regina was about to nod, when she heard the new notes rising from the violin strings, and her head turned towards the source of the music – she'd recognized the song immediately, like a motive from her past, and looked at Robin with a wide smile spreading over her lips.

"Not yet," she decided, "we must dance this one," she took his hand, as he had done before, and he inclined his head with a questioning look. He followed her movements, though, and this time she guided him, faithful to her word about the one-time-leading discussion.

He made her spin, and then his eyes brightened in understanding, "Now I remember this song," he told her, and his hand circled her hip, and left it after a second, Regina getting further from him and lifting an arm in sync with the tune.

 _Shall we dance?  
On a bright cloud of music, shall we fly?  
Shall we dance?  
Shall we then say goodnight and mean goodbye?_

 _Or perchance,  
When the last little star has left the sky,  
Shall we still be together  
With our arms around each other_

 _And shall you be my new romance?_

She was back in his arms, melody slowing down, and she neared herself to his cheek. He chuckled, ruffling her hair. "The Queen and I," he whispered, adapting the title to their situation, and she laughed against his shoulder.

"Careful," she told him, "the night is not over yet."

He didn't answer, but pulled her closer, and finally meeting her lips with his, and she leaned on him – they'd stopped moving, the darkness of the room conspiring with them, she tasted his savor, deepening the kiss. He flickered his tongue and an electric shiver ran through her, and too soon it was over.

"Maybe I'll steal something else from you, before the night is over," he murmured, and she bit her lip again.

"You're way too confident in your stealing skills," she answered cheekily, then motioned towards the tables – the song was not over yet, but she needed a quiet moment to calm down the ever-growing heat that was making her heart beat faster.

He nodded, and soon they were lifting two glasses of red wine. She kept it near her lips, glancing at him, and he titled his head, as if he was well aware of what she was doing. They stood silent, battling with their eyes, until she looked away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze. She heard him chuckle softly, then felt the light touch of his hand on her skin – he brought her chin up, staring in her eyes.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked earnestly, as if her wellbeing was his only concern. Regina tempted a smile, pushing back the thoughts that had begun swirling in her mind.

 _You always think it's going to last, what if this ends badly, what if it's like with Da –_

"Very much," she chose to answer, instead of listening to her mind – she prayed that the Emma-part of her brain could take control over the pessimism, and push her towards a few hours of happiness. Damn, she would have taken even the Mary Margaret part, at this point. "Shall we go dance again?"

He probably noticed her change of subject – but still, he wordlessly took her hand, and started to guide her towards the dancefloor, but they were once again interrupted.

"Look at the foxy man here," a deep voice called, and they both turned. A handsome man in white was standing in front of them, accompanied by a woman in black.

"Look at the tormented one," Robin answered, then left her hand to go and hug his friend. "I didn't know you were in Venice!"

"Well, you know Ingrid can't work without me," he said, flashing his blue eyes towards Regina. Robin, in the meanwhile, was greeting the woman with another hug. When he released her, he straightened and took her hand again, starting to make presentations.

"This is August Booth, our irreplaceable responsible for the press – who shouldn't be drinking on the job, but nobody is watching, so… and this is Mulan Fa, my fellow designer," he pointed at the woman. Regina smiled at her, and the woman answered with the same polite smile. "And this is Regina Mills, no presentation needed, right?"

"Ah, finally, the infamous Regina," Mulan offered her a hand, which she shook firmly. "I've heard of you for the past two days, and I'm alive to tell the tale."

"Oh, shut up," Robin glanced at her, slightly embarrassed. "We had got work to do, I haven't talked _all the time_..."

Regina glanced at him, deeply amused by this exchange, and he couldn't hide the secret smile he reserved just for her. "It's a pleasure to meet you both," she said. "So, he did _really_ work this weekend?"

Mulan shrugged, throwing a cunning smile towards Robin. "Well, the boss is demanding, and we had to… otherwise he would have _never_ dumped you," she finished, unfazed by his meaningful looks.

"Yes, he can be hard-working if he wants," August intervened. "But most of the time he's just a lazy butt…"

"Okay, enough, you've humiliated me enough," Robin interrupted. "That's unfair; I'd never speak of you with such terms…"

"Because you're a _gentleman_ ," Mulan stressed the term, and Regina could only laugh – apparently, his romantic attitude wasn't limited to their meetings.

"That's wonderful, getting to know a new side of you," she told him, and he shot her a _Not-you-too_ kind of glance – but the orchestra decided to have pity of him, because a new song had just started, and Mulan snapped her head up.

"Oh, I have to go dance this one," she decided, and offered her arm to August. "Will my plus-one join me?"

"I thought we had agreed that _you_ are my plus-one, because you're prettier than me," he answered, offended. "What kind of song is this, anyway?"

"Come on! The _Sleeping Beauty_ waltz by Tchaikovsky – and you're supposed to be the cultivated one…"

"I am. Concerning books and writers, I am, far more than you…" they went away, still bickering, but starting to dance – evidently Mulan had convinced him.

Regina turned towards Robin, lifting a single eyebrow. "The _infamous_ Regina, huh?"

He laughed, only slightly embarrassed now that they were alone, and shook his head. "Mulan has been dying for me to spill my secrets, those days," he said. "She even proposed to accompany me at the ball, to push me out of the study, as she said."

Regina frowned questioningly, "Wait. Aren't they together?"

"No," he smiled, "I can see why you have thought that – but no, August is… a lone wolf, let's put it this way… and Mulan has a girlfriend waiting for her in America, so no, they're here as friends, I suppose…"

She nodded, and then leaned on to kiss his cheek – the light touch of his beard brushed her skin, and she whispered under the music, "I'm glad to have pushed you out of the study, then," and felt him laugh softly.

"Thank you," he said, face staying near to hers, and how on hell did he manage to make her heart flutter like that? But Mulan and August were coming back, cheeks flushed, and they had to part, still smiling.

"How was the Sleeping Beauty, August?" Robin said, passing an arm behind her back.

"Asleep," he answered, rewarded by a smack on his arm by Mulan. Regina scoffed a laugh – she could see why Robin was fond of them, they had his same sense of humor. She decided to leave him with his friends for some time – after all, she had stayed with him all the evening, so she cleared her throat.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll need the toilet," she said, and Mulan laid down her glass of wine.

"Oh, I'll join you," she proposed. "I've been dying to get my mask off for a little while."

Regina nodded, "That's one of my goals too," she agreed, and then moved to follow her, throwing one last glance to Robin – he had just passed August some wine.

"We'll wait here," he told her, and she nodded again, and turned towards the exit.

§§§

"So, isn't your lady an angel?" August told him – the wine in his glass was rotating slowly, and he stretched a hand towards the buffet, taking a canapé. "How did you meet her?"

"That's a story you'll be stealing for one of your books, isn't it?" he mocked him. He knew August wasn't quite satisfied with his job for Ingrid. Responsible for the press – it was interesting, and challenging, and it certainly kept him busy and it made him run around the city, but he wasn't like that. He was good, no use at denying it, but he had told Robin that he loved the quiet evenings when he could sit at his desk with a pen and some white sheets of paper or a notebook, with a glass of whiskey, and write until his hand was sore.

August threw him a knowing smile, and leaned on to smack his forearm. "If you have secrets worthy of my time, buddy, I could even give to one of my characters your name."

"Let me guess, to the bad one?"

"To the helpless lovesick idiot," August answered, lifting his glass, and he mirrored him, scoffing a laugh.

"To the lovesick idiots, then," he repeated the toast, and they gulped down a sip, and kept talking for a few minutes. He told him a brief summary of the suitcases story – leaving out the details, just emphasizing the mind-blowing coincidences of that night.

Then, Robin spotted Regina, obviously back from the bathroom, and her expression was stressed. It stirred something deep inside him – this was a new version of her, anxiety painted on her face. His mind quickly compared her with his other memories – their dates, when she had been calm and relaxed and beautiful – and he reached her in two steps, placing his hands on her hips.

"What is it?" he asked her, without bothering to hide his concern, and she took a breath, putting up a smile for his sake.

"It's not important, don't worry."

"Regina," he simply said, implying a hundred things in a word – _don't lie to me, please tell me what's wrong, you're scaring me, you know better than to tell me it's not important_ – and she finally looked up at him, then diverted her eyes – she was _worried_.

"Gold is here."


	6. When Night is almost done

_Sooorry for the wait - sorry to some members of the Squad for my Sneak Peek Snaps meant to torture them (Sarah I'm talking to you) - and enjoy, darlings! I'd loooove to hear your thoughts here, you'll see why. Oh, and, this chapter is for Ayla. Kinda of due after my last angst. Apologies, milady :3  
_

* * *

 _ **When Night is almost done**_

 _When Night is almost done—  
And Sunrise grows so near  
That we can touch the Spaces—  
It's time to smooth the Hair—_

 _And get the Dimples ready—  
And wonder we could care  
For that old — faded Midnight—  
That frightened — but an Hour— _

"Gold? Your boss?"

"Yes," Regina answered, and continued to look down, so that he brought up a hand to lift her chin and meet her eyes.

"So, what's the matter?"

She narrowed her eyes – he sensed her worry was almost gone, nearly replaced by disappointment and – it was almost like she was willing to escape in a matter of seconds.

"You remember I was sick, on Sunday, and I couldn't go to the meeting?"

"And?"

"And now I'm here, two days later, and it looks like I've lied –"

"Regina," he lifted his hands to her bare forearms, rubbing slowly, in a move that was meant to soothe and calm her down. "Why does this make you so worried?"

"Because –" she stopped and closed her eyes, breathed in, then resumed talking. "Because I never know how he'll exploit my mistakes."

"Why do you think _being sick_ is a mistake?"

"It isn't to me!" she backed down, squeezing his arm, desperate to make him see. He focused on her, drowning in her eyes, trying sincerely to read, to _understand_ her. "But for him, he'll never believe me, he doesn't approve of excuses, of weakness –"

"You need to calm down, love," he stated firmly. "It's not a disaster, it's not the end of the world, it's just your boss – and if you want, we'll call your friend Mal, who will kick his ass for you, while I –" he leaned on to drop a kiss on her forehead, " – continue to dance with you, how does that sound?"

He was relieved to feel her body relax slightly, her breaths deepen, and she finally lifted up the corners of her mouth with a proper smile.

"No doubt she'd do it," she answered, and neared her mouth to his cheek, nuzzling her nose there. Behind them, August cleared his throat, and their little private bubble exploded – they turned towards him, slightly embarrassed.

"I think I'll go check on my partner – Robin, continue to behave, my friend. Lady Regina, it has been a pleasure to meet you," he said, bowing his head in a chivalrous move.

"Likewise," Regina smiled, and they watched him go, her head going to lie on Robin's shoulder.

"So, shall we go dance?" he proposed, and she had just nodded, when a voice came from behind.

"Miss Mills, what a surprise."

Robin felt Regina's body tense again, all of a sudden. They turned slowly, too slowly, her voice cold as ice when she spoke.

"Gold."

The light of the candles seemed to blur, and his arm went automatically up, wrapping Regina's small of the back protectively. He could feel her rhythmical breaths, in and out, her shoulders straightened in anticipation, as if she was waiting for some sort of imminent doom. He took in Gold's figure – he wasn't quite as he'd imagined him, but he had a certain… _something_ , in his eyes. Something bad – something disturbing.

The man smiled, and motioned towards him, with a questioning look.

"Oh," Regina cleared her throat, "this is Robin Locksley, my… partner for tonight, – Robin, this is Duff Gold – you… already know of him," she said, fighting uneasiness.

"My pleasure, Mister Locksley," Gold said – Robin nodded, and extended a hand – he had a firm grip, and he shook it dutifully. Gold glanced at Regina, then pretended to ignore his almost rudeness. "Perhaps your gallant knight would consider letting me borrow you for a ball?"

Silence fell – an odd feeling, given that the violins had just started an arranged version of Schubert's _Serenade_. Robin exchanged a quick look with Regina – she looked resigned, as if she couldn't turn down the offer, and he slowly nodded. "As long as it's okay with you," he said, and she nodded imperceptibly. Gold turned towards the middle of the room, and Regina squeezed his arm before going. He felt what she was trying to tell him – wordlessly, she was saying _Don't worry, I'll be fine_.

He watched them go, worry and concern filling unpleasantly his heart.

§§§

"It's past midnight, Miss Mills," Gold started, offering her his hand. "Isn't a bit past your bedtime?"

"What do you _want_ , Gold?" she got straight to the point, and he immediately chuckled, as if he was expecting her retort.

"Why I'm checking on your health, of course," he answered, unfazed by her mounting rage.

"Yes, of course," she lifted her eyebrows, as he pulled her closer, and it was just feeling… _wrong_. It was not the right body, the one she longed for.

"So, I take you're feeling better, aren't you?" he said with his usual creeping tone.

"You don't believe me," Regina answered, and saw a familiar flicker of mockery in his eyes.

"Oh, I thought we were past the point where we lie to each other, Miss Mills," he made her spin, and she caught a glimpse of Robin while she was rotating – he was standing near a table, his body tensing. His concerned frown made her heart flutter, and she wished for the dance to be over, and to be back in his arms… but then, she still owed an answer to Gold's statement.

"Well, it's a relief, knowing you're not here to spy on me," she told him, and he lifted the corners of his lips in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Spy on you?" he said, and she could almost say he was genuinely surprised, but she knew him too well no to think he had gladly took that opportunity of controlling her. "I'm not spying on anyone. I'm here – only because of business, _Regina_ ," he whispered her name, as he always did when he was starting to get angry. "I have a certain… deal for Miss Fisher, whom I know since many years, after I won a case for her account – I'm surely not here to spy on you," he ended, and her mind immediately raced to take in his words.

"I'm glad you didn't lower yourself at the point of stealing an invitation," she put up the widest smile she could manage, knowing it would piss him off more.

The music slowed down – every couple around them was bowing to each other, and she thanked her lucky star this had been a fast song. Gold lifted up her hand to kiss her knuckles, and his feathery touch was clearly meant to unsettle her, but she stood still.

"No, that would be a shameful action," he whispered, his voice dangerously low. "Do you know what the symbol of Venice is, Miss Mills?"

"A winged lion?"

Gold shook his head, with a half-smile. "Not the official one. The symbol which comes up to everyone's mind, when they hear Venice's name. A mask. We live in a world of secrets, Regina," he added. "Keep that in mind, nothing's quite the way it seems."

She felt she couldn't answer – he had often this effect on her, a loss of words, some sort of uneasiness that ran deep.

"Thank you for this lovely dance, Regina – take care," he said, and why was she feeling slightly menaced by his words?

"Yes," she answered, almost hypnotized, as he was going away, but then she felt other arms lace around her waist, and a more familiar and calming smell surrounded her.

"Are you alright?" Robin asked, and she turned her head to meet his eyes, bright blue and shining and concerned and caring.

"Perfectly fine," she lied, and saw she hadn't fooled him, but he just scrutinized her face for a moment before nodding. Then, he left her waist to take her hand, and his eyes made a resolution.

"Shall we do something very forbidden?" he asked playfully, and she titled her head with curiosity.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Ah, that's my queen, always up to something," he smiled, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I was thinking of escaping from this room for a moment, and we could go… exploring the gardens," he said.

"Gardens… in Venice?"

"A rather unique garden, I'd dare to say," he kept his mysterious tone, and she looked at him – Gold had been forgotten, in front of this new enticing secret.

"I trust you won't get us caught," she mocked him, and made an offended expression. "Come on, let's go," she said then, and he smiled again, then gestured towards a hidden curtain.

"After you," he told her, and she obliged, throwing him a curious look. She moved aside the curtain – all was submerged in darkness, and she couldn't see anything of the new room she was entering. First thing she noticed, it was the smell – in the ball room, it had been of flowers, perfume and candles. But here, it was of marble and air and emptiness. She took his hand, and he squeezed it, leading her through the room, then another, all of them dark and void of people or life. It struck her, that one room could be so full of life and music, and the room next to it so… dead.

They walked through it, her heels producing a resounding echo on the floor, and finally they arrived. A door – basically, a glass panel, and outside, again the darkness. Robin pushed it gently, it creaked nonetheless. " _Shh_ ," whispered Regina, "weren't you supposed to be a thief? Sneaking through the night like a shadow?"

He turned his head to look at her, and answered, serious. "Only thing I've stolen in my life, it was a suitcase, and if this makes me a thief, then I'm a bloody lucky thief," he murmured, and she felt her lips curve upwards, and smiled against his mouth when he leaned on to peck a kiss there.

After he parted from her – never leaving her hand – she continued to smile, following him through the door. Outside, it wasn't so dark, the moon shining between grey clouds against the midnight blue sky. _Velvet blue and silver_ , she thought, looking up. They walked a stony path which leaded to a high hedge – there was a narrow gap, she had to lift her gown and wait until he was on the other side to follow, because they couldn't go through and stay side by side.

It was a secret garden indeed – the hedges surrounding it, and inside, trees, palm trees, and flowerbeds – without any flower, because of the harsh weather of winter. A stone bench, which was precisely where Robin was leading her. It was located under a tree – quite close to the hedge gap that had let them enter. This smell of the garden, it was something Regina had never felt before. Rich, strong smell of sea, salt and humidity, laced with a scent of earth and air and pine – Robin gestured for her to sit, going to join her under the tree. She turned towards him, marvel in her eyes.

"How can there be a garden like this in Venice?"

He chuckled, and she saw a triumphant flash of his smile. "Contrarily to what everyone thinks, milady, Venice isn't properly built _upon the waters_ – that would be impossible," he explained. "Almost every place you visit is a little island – there are one hundred and eighteen little islands, linked together by bridges, but it's completely possible to have a garden here. If you have a place to plant it, and that's the problem, because there's no room in this city… This palace is quite ancient, built by a noble family, and they used to open the gardens to the public, in the past," he mused.

"Rather generous from such a refined kind," Regina smiled, nearing herself to him with an imperceptible shift on the bench. He passed a hand behind her bare shoulders, bringing her close, and kept observing the garden. She snuggled against him, searching his warmth in the crispy air of that February night. It was so calm and peaceful that she could feel all of her worries… slip away, oh, so slowly, and she marveled at the sleepy numbness of her mind.

"Are you cold?" he whispered after a while, rubbing her forearm.

"A bit," she answered, leaning her head on his shoulder. She felt him drop a kiss on her hair, then let his lips linger there, and she moved slowly to lift her head – she met his eyes, shining of blue in the light of the moon, and closed hers, shivering pleasantly from the electricity of their lips finally meeting. It was soft, and sweet, and melancholic, as if she had entered in a dream. He kept savoring her taste, sucking gently her lip, his hand tangled between her hair, and she pressed more of herself against him, searching him all, her tongue setting a slow and deliciously agonizing pace. And then…

A noise.

Her eyes slammed open, his were still closed, the feathers of her mask waving slightly in the wind that had just started to blow.

The creak of the glass door – she froze, his eyes opened too, and they both turned their heads – looking at the hedge, trying to spy a glimmer of something through the leaves. Unfortunately, the leaves were thick enough to hide whoever was on the other side. But soon they could hear voices, whispering quite loudly: without a doubt, their intruders thought they were alone.

At first, the voices were quite muffled, but as soon as they approached, they could distinguish them.

"I said no, I don't see why you are insisting," it was a woman, and her voice felt familiar to Regina – at her side, Robin had stiffened all of a sudden, that relax from moments earlier completely gone, and he threw a glance at her. _Ingrid_ , he mouthed silently.

"Think about it," a man answered. "We could help you. Only thing you have to do, is signing this paper."

Regina was breathing so slowly that she couldn't even be sure to be breathing at all. They stood as still as possible, and the voices neared, dangerously close to them.

"This isn't _legal_ ," Ingrid hissed. "This is dangerous, and if we get caught, I'll be the one found guilty!"

"You won't," the man said firmly. "May I remind you this is your chance to get what you want?"

They missed Ingrid's answer – it had been a mere whisper, lost in the wind, and Regina tensed when Robin sneaked up his hand to take hers, then relaxed to the contact. He squeezed it, in a gentle reminder he was there, and to be silent, and that it was going to be alright.

The man spoke again. "Yes, that's exactly what Gold needs from you," he said. Regina snapped her head towards the hedge, desperately trying to see who the man was. _Gold? Involved in an illegal deal? With Ingrid?_

Ingrid whispered again, and this time she caught the ending. "…from my family."

"This isn't a blackmail, don't be stupid," the man said. "Let's say you are in the position to do something we want, and it would be a shame, losing your reputation or… someone you hold dear, wouldn't it?"

The woman was about to answer, when Regina felt the first drop of rain on her skin. It started slowly, one dribble after the other, _shit_ , she thought, and Ingrid was already rushing the man to go back inside. _And now we'll never know if she has accepted_.

Robin looked at her, motioning towards the house, and she nodded quickly, starting to get up. He helped her, sliding his arm under hers, and they reached the break in the hedge. He peeked towards the glass door – it had just closed, and she joined him – she saw Ingrid's silver dress getting further, like a spot of color becoming smaller and smaller, until she disappeared. After a few seconds, they were pushing the door and slithering inside.

"What do you think?" Robin murmured, once they were back in the dark room. His words echoed, and a chill ran down Regina's back. Her eyes lifted to find his, and she worried her lower lip, then looked outside – the rain was starting to fall, now, fat drops splashing on the grass, on the path made of stone, pouring from the trees, and a thunderous noise made her flinch.

"I think I should find out what's going on," she finally answer, quiet, turning again towards him. "Robin, a blackmail involving Gold and Ingrid?"

He exchanged her look, and this concerned her, because he usually was the one who calmed her down, and now she could see he was worried. "Regina, you heard that man," he said. "He told her it's dangerous."

"She also said something about her family," she replied. "Elsa's sister is pregnant, and if they are blackmailing Ingrid… that baby, Robin, her baby is _innocent_ , and…" she held his hand tighter, feeling the familiar sting of tears burning at the corners of her eyes. "If I can do something to help them, if I can discover something…"

He lifted one hand to her cheek, his palm warm against her skin, and looked at her intently for a time that felt longer than it actually was. "I don't want you in danger," he stated. "I'll handle it."

"What? No!" she protested, distancing her face from his hand. Her heart, until then curled in a nook of anxiety, began to twirl in panic. "I… I don't want to drag you into this, it's Gold that – it's not –" she knew she was babbling, but he shook his head, and he was saying something, but her mind was back to that day – her Daniel on the ground, dying in her arms, and their crashed car fuming next to them.

 _How can it be, that I care about him so much, after only a few days?_

But she realized he had done nothing but caring, during those days. Being there, even when she was sick, and listening to her, and being kind, and yes, she cared too.

"Regina!"

Her head snapped back there in the present. In that instant, a thunder shook the sky. She looked at him, and he was scrutinizing her. "Calm down, love," he murmured. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on steadying her heartbeat. _In, out. Come on. In, out_. After a few seconds, she blinked, looking up at him.

"Better?"

She nodded, hating that he had to see her like this, _hating_ it. Thoughts like _what does he think of you now_ began to skim into her mind, but she pushed them away. "Sorry," she murmured. "I just wanted to say… I've decided to do this, I didn't mean to involve you," she explained.

"But since I apparently _can't_ keep you from investigating, I _want_ to be involved," he said firmly. His eyes flashed in the beginning of a smile, and his hand went to place itself on her hip. "I think we'd have better chances together, you know?"

She stood silent, her thoughts running fast. _He's right, he'd never let me do this alone_ , she mused, a rush of affection passing through her veins. "Okay," she answered. She lifted on her tiptoes, to press a kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she told him, in a heartfelt murmur. Oh, he was so wonderful. So wonderful, and she had potentially ruined it all… it had been a great evening so far, and she had nearly fought with him…

"Anytime, Regina," he murmured, like he meant it, and she was hit by the simplicity of his answer.

"Come on, let's go dance," she proposed, and he smiled, maybe we can still save this evening after all. He followed her through the abandoned room and they sneaked past the curtain, immerging themselves again in the bright and lively atmosphere of the ball room.

§§§

Two hours later, they found themselves hidden behind a corner, in the dull light of candles, exchanging the sloppy kisses of too much rosé wine and sore feet, and he was relishing in the sensation of Regina's hair between his fingers. Her carefully curled locks were now loosened, almost straight again, and she was pressing her body against his in a way that was having him scream for more. Without breaking the kiss, she dragged him towards deeper shadows, away from the light.

The sounds from the room were now strangely muffled. He knew that the noise should have been loud, but he couldn't find his senses to care about it. The violins were gone – apparently, from after midnight it was the turn of another music, more modern and danceable, and what a show it had been to see all those composed dancers from past times turn into people of their time.

 _We were victims of the night  
The chemical, physical – kryptonite  
Helpless to the bass and the fading light _

_Oh, we were bound to get together  
Bound to get together _

"Robin," she whispered, her lips half-parted. A thunder, in that moment, growled in the sky – the velvet teared up by a white lightning, and his gaze went to the closest window, it was almost like the ancient gods were angry for something. He pulled Regina closer, his nose inhaling her scent, the perfume of the rose between her hair, and then his hand down to her hips, down –

"Locksley!"

Regina parted their lips with a smack, startled, and they turned their heads – Ingrid was coming towards them, unfazed by their annoyed expressions.

She neared them, and he had to distance himself from Regina, her hand up to try and fix her hair from the playful twist he had provoked with his needy fingers. "What is it?" he asked, trying to regain his usual calm.

Ingrid had joined them, and she smiled briefly at Regina before looking at him. " _Acqua alta_ ," she said, with an apologetic expression, but he widened his eyes nonetheless.

"Already?"

"Sorry, what?" asked Regina, confused.

"Oh," he said, looking at her. "It means _high waters_ , and that the bridge of this place –" he looked at Ingrid, accusingly, "– is currently underwater, and that nobody can cross it."

"I was planning on rebuilding it this summer, you know that!" Ingrid said, defensive. "But still, too late to leave now."

"But… we can't use a boat?" Regina asked.

"I wouldn't go outside with this weather, and you?" Ingrid answered. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for the night."

Regina turned towards him, a bunch of questions painted on her face. "Stay here?"

"We have plenty of rooms, don't worry about that," Ingrid told her. Regina was still looking at him, and he nodded slightly. "I guess we'll have to accept the invitation," he said, praying it would be okay with her, but her lips curved up in a secret smile, just for him. She turned towards Ingrid, and nodded, adding a soft _thank you_. He knew that those words hid something more, concern, care, and it struck him, how brave Regina was – willing to put herself in danger for this woman she had just met, to make sure her family was safe.

"I guess it's settled, then," Ingrid whispered, and left them to talk to a man who was supposedly going to led them to the room.

"You okay?" he asked, and Regina smiled lightly. He wondered if she was just tipsy or really happy, he wondered if she was both, but then it was time to go, and they followed the man – he said his name was Olaf – up the stairs, down on a corridor, past a door and then another, and he was almost lost, Regina's hand the only thing that seemed real.

"There you go," the man smiled, pushing a door. "For any problem, I'm just at the end of this corridor."

They thanked him, watched him go away in a bouncing walk, and they were alone. Robin tried the main chandelier, but it was probably broken, because it wasn't working. He had to switch on the lamp on the night table instead – he placed there his wallet, Regina set her purse next to it. And he had to slip off his shoes, which were still humid from the rain.

And they were alone.

And she grabbed the collar of his shirt and started to kiss him.

§§§

It started with a kiss, it tasted like wine and him, his hand placed on her back, and a growing sensation of heat spreading on her chest, like a series of summer fireworks – at every kiss, she was getting more hunger for him, his touch, _more, please_. His lips were ravenous, as if he wanted to melt them with hers, to come together and mingle, more, more, please, the suffused light in the room providing that quiet touch they needed.

He brought his hand up, up towards her mask, pulling gently the ribbons – once he finally uncovered her features, he stopped for a moment to look at her. " _Bellissima_ ," he whispered, kissing her forehead tenderly. That sudden sweetness was so different from the hungry, desperate kisses from seconds ago – and she felt like she could give him something in return, nuzzled her nose on his cheek, and lifted her hand to loosen his knot. His mask slid casually down her dress, rustled on the fabric, and landed on the carpet with a soft _thud_.

"It's nice to finally watch you," she murmured, smiling.

"Same for me, love," he answered, his dimples deepened by the low light of the lamp. Outside, the storm was roaring its way in the sky, and a sudden thunder shook the glass – her gaze flickered towards the inky blue, lightened for an instant by a white flash.

"Afraid of the storm, milady?" he laughed, and she smacked his arm.

"Shut up," she threatened.

"Make me."

She lifted her eyebrows – she couldn't believe he had dared to challenge her. She took him for the folds of his jacket and brought him towards her, crashing her lips on his, and his moan stirred something inside of her, that had her asking _more, please, more_.

So when he tilted his head, looking at her questioningly, as if he was asking _are you sure?_ She nodded, simple as that, and he went to sneak his hand to one of his favorite placements – between her hair. He slipped out gingerly the pin that kept them more or less fastened, the pin where he had fixated the white bloom he had given her at the beginning of the evening. He placed it on the table next to them – and neared his head to her shoulder, kissing her bare skin. "Turn around, lovely," he murmured, and she felt a shiver buzzing from his lips to end directly at her core, already pulsing and _wet_.

She felt his fingers work tirelessly on the ribbons of her corset. One after another, he untied the first knot, starting from the top, and going down, with a… rhythm… ah, _agonizing_ , and slow, so _slow_ … "Robin," she protested, writhing a little and earning his deep chuckle.

"Have patience," he instructed, loosening the last knot, and pulling the folders aside to reveal her nude skin. His hand ghosted under the fabric – he was still behind her, and he slid a finger inside the dress, caressing her back, then moving towards the front. She froze, then, and he stopped.

"Something wrong?"

"No," she answered, in a throaty voice that didn't sound quite like herself. She turned in his arms, and his hand had to leave its warm nest to return on the outside. "But I believe…" she trailed her fingers up on his arm. "… I believe it's your turn to lose some layers, handsome," she flirted needlessly, and he smiled at her, bowing slightly his head as if he was telling her to go ahead. Regina grabbed the fabric of his suit in her hand, pushing it down, until it come to rest in her hand. He took it from her, letting it slip on the ground. But he still was too dressed up for her taste.

She started to search for his belt, when he placed his hand on hers, and she looked up to him. "Let me take care of that," he said. He leaned on to kiss her – now the slowness seemed to have been forgotten, because she brought up her hands to his cheeks, while he worked at his trousers.

"Why are you so damn slow," she panted between kisses, and he smiled against his mouth. Regina slid her hand down, finally finding his hardness under one more layer.

"Impatient already, are we?" she teased, and a dark shadow passed through his eyes, one that promised to make her scream in pleasure and tremble in his arms. She shivered, stings of lust burning her core – she wondered if the sexy, lacey panties she had brought weren't already soaked.

He was in his shirt and underwear, now, and threw her a smirk before nearing his mouth to her neck. When he started sucking there, she felt stars shining behind her closed eyelids. "Ah, please," she moaned, and with her great displeasure, he separated his lips from her skin. She watched in marvel as he dragged her closer to the bed, and started lowering her dress – she could already see her bra, that black strapless garment she had bought on Monday. _No_.

"Wait," she panted, and he immediately stopped. "Let's… turn off the light, shall we?" she proposed, and he seemed puzzled for an instant, but nodded. He reached out for the night-table, and pressed the switch. Now it was dark, and this was _good_ , and Regina relaxed again against his hands which had restarted their endless quest to remove her dress. He lowered it, uncovering her belly, passing a hand on the covered cup of her breast, then pushed down gently, until he reached her underwear. At this point, he was practically sitting on the bed, her standing in front of him, half-naked.

She could tell he didn't see a thing, because his hands were now pressing more carefully on her skin, as if he was drawing a path, trying to learn the map of her curves, the softness of her arms, and down to her gown – he smoothed the velvet, before offering her one hand to help her step outside. He got up, with a quick peek at her knuckles, and left her hand to go and fold her dress on a chair, not to ruin it.

Regina was keeping her eyes closed, still standing next to the bed, and didn't hear him approach, but felt his arms around her waist as he embraced her from behind. "Do you really need your heels?" he whispered against her shoulder, sending chills down her spine.

She turned, slowly, rotating in a way that let her face him. "I'll give them up," she murmured, trailing kisses on his jaw, "if you lose your shirt," she bargained.

"Deal," he answered, in a raspy voice that had her toes curl. Another quick kiss, and he was so slow, in everything, it was pure torture. His body's warmth left her, and – he wasn't doing _that?_ – but he was – kneeling, and lifting one of her feet, and carefully slipping it out from the heel, then the other, his hand hot on her ankle. She breathed, for only a second, because he was already up, kissing her neck, and she placed her lips on his neck too – sucked a bit, it had him groan in pleasure. _Two can play this game_ , she laughed inwardly. "Your shirt," she remembered, searching the buttons with quick fingers. Apparently, he was as eager as she was; because he stopped her hands to lift the shirt up and remove it like a bottomless garment.

She was not prepared for his bare chest. Toned, for all she could feel despite the lack of light, her hand was already caressing his shoulder and then down to his abs, but he wasn't standing still – because finally, finally, all that kept their bodies apart were a few pieces of clothing, and his hand was sneaking towards the clasp of her bra. Regina bit her lip, then neared her lips to his ear, and whispered. "Take me to bed."

She met his eyes – a glimmer of blue in the dark, kindness and lust mixed together. He nodded, left her bra, still secured, to pass his arms around her waist again, then – oh, what was he doing? – he was lowering himself a bit, his arms sliding just down the curve of her ass, his knees flexing slightly. He pushed down, and actually lifted her from her feet.

And she giggled.

She actually _giggled_ , like a teenager, because he was peppering kisses on her face, and turning towards the bed and covering the distance in one single step. She was expecting to be almost thrown onto the mattress, but instead he kept her up, and lowered her gently, until her back reached the white sheets, her hair splayed on the pillow.

She saw a shadow of desire in his eyes, and couldn't help but throw him a wide smile.

"You sure?" he asked again, uncertain, but Regina continued to smile, drawing slowly his head towards her by cupping his cheeks.

"I _want_ you," she told him, and got a flash of dimpled smile before he lowered his head to kiss her, his hands going to stroke her thighs, his fingers going to hook on the border of her panties. "Yes," she murmured, and he took it as an invitation, finally lowering them, down on her thighs, and letting his fingers slid towards her pulsing bundle of nerves. When he first touched her, she blinked once or twice, never leaving his eyes. He was scrutinizing her, making sure she was comfortable, and she thought she could have started crying, for his affection and care, and his desire, that had... enlightened places inside of her, numb from years.

He shifted a bit, continuing to trail his finger there, and _yes_ , exactly, "There –" she said, raspy voice and greedy arms, thinking she could exchange the favor, and her hand joined his length, already hard, and stroke it. "Regina," he moaned, his fingers stopping for a moment, as he was adjusting to the touch of her hand.

"Yes?" she asked, faking innocence, throwing him a devilish smile.

For an answer, he added one finger inside of her, and she couldn't hold back a surprised _Oh_ , and he laughed in a low tone. His other hand sneaked between her skin and the mattress, and finally unclasped her bra. He pulled the black cups apart, and she couldn't help but notice his mastery in freeing her breasts with one hand.

She caught a glimpse of marvel in his eyes – it was dark, but she could see something, and especially the look of pure need he threw to her chest. "See something you like?" she teased, with another stroke to his cock, and he – _oh_ – he bit his lower lip, "You have no idea," he answered. His lips went right there – finding her nipple, and he was so gent – _no_ , he was _sucking_ it, and her body arched back, to let him have _more_ , to press her tighs against that delicious friction…

"Ah, please," she let out, momentarily forgetting to keep teasing him – he took advantage of it, because he left her breast, fastened the pace of his fingers, _finally_ , she thought – right _there_ –

And slowed down.

" _No_ ," she said, outraged, but he simply smirked, stroking slowly.

"Are you close, love?"

"You know I am," she told him, half- aroused, half-angry – _oh, he'll pay for this_. Her hand went back there, pushing down the fabric, down until they were finally both naked, skin on skin – she circled his length, drawing torturous paths, and then it was a fight, giving pleasure, taking pleasure, wetness on his fingers, bodies sweaty, one against the other.

"Oh-okay," he rasped, and Regina couldn't hide a triumphant grin. "I surrender – ah, _Regina!_ – you are making me co-"

"I want –" she tempted, clenching her teeth when he brushed against her clit. "– _inside_ –"

"You sure?"

"Yes," she hissed, pressing her chin on his shoulder. She was finding it very hard to concentrate on giving him pleasure when he was rubbing her insides, so painfully _wet_ … "You – have a condom?"

"Yes," he answered, leaving the hold on her hair to stretch one hand towards the night table. She closed her eyes, as he fidgeted with his wallet, and sucked up a breath, he was retracting his fingers – "No," she protested, and went to block his hand. "Let me."

She left her hold on him to go and rip the package, his fingers curled – actually _curled_ inside of her. "Stop distracting me," she smiled, her tongue between her lips in concentration, and he chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. Finally, the damned thing exited, and she could unroll it gingerly, with a kiss on the corner of his lips. "Just hold on a bit longer," she whispered.

"For you, lovely," he said cheekily, and she had to roll her eyes, smiling, then nearing her mouth to his jaw. His beard tickled her skin, and she anchored one leg above his, widening her entrance. He continued to stroke her clit, faster this time, and yes – at _last_ , he was giving her what she wanted, _yes_ –

"Please, Robin, I need –" she started, but her words where needless, because oh, he was finally entering her – he filled her, and she felt so tight, _oh_ , she hadn't had _that_ in years, and this was familiar, yet new –

He pressed his hands to her back, pulling her closer, "Regina," he moaned, "you're bloody amazing, love," he said, one hand up to stroke back her hair, his eyes dangerously close. She crashed their lips together, and pushed him down, finding herself on top.

"You feel so great," she told him earnestly, "oh, please –" the sensation of him, of his palm cupping her breast, him inside of her, she felt complete, as if she'd found a missing piece – that spot, right there –

"I want to hear you," he said, but no need, she was practically straddling him at this point, her head arched, her eyes closed in the dark, "Right there, please –" and he went there, yes –

Oh, that was an explosion of stars behind her eyes, screaming his name, his words telling her he had come too, holding a hand on her arm, his finger clenching, she was probably going to have red spots there in the morning – the deep thrusts slowed down, down, until he stopped. She collapsed on his stomach, without bother to wipe off an idiotic smile from her face, breathing in and out, her heartbeat slowing down too, and he was still inside her.

When he rubbed her forearm gently, she lifted her head, kissed his jaw, his neck, continued to kiss him as he left the warm place where she had hosted him. His hand went to caress her cheek, without talking, there was no need, not right after their souls had come to life in the same instant. Her eyes closed, so she missed the movement of his hand to pull the covers above them, but she was smiling, as he held her closer, and she didn't think she was going to stop smiling anytime soon.

She fell asleep with his murmur near her ear, his hand on her stomach and his breaths on her neck, feeling more alive than she had been in years. Lulled by his warmth, she let her serene exhaustion waltz her into the land of dreams.


	7. I many times thought Peace had come

_Hey there! Thank you for all the reviews and sweet messages here and on tumblr, you all are an amazing lot! And thank you, you two - you know who you are, you-finally-together, you, who are probably all cozy at home and already drinking. Wonderful ladies, lots of love! Rosé and shine!  
_

* * *

 _ **I many times thought Peace had come**_

 _I many times thought Peace had come  
When Peace was far away -  
As Wrecked Men - deem they sight the Land -  
At Centre of the Sea -_

 _And struggle slacker - but to prove  
As hopelessly as I -  
How many the fictitious Shores -  
Before the Harbor lie - _

She was running.

Already out of breath, she was running through an endless corridor. Panic like a cold fist in her chest, she threw a glance at her sides while she ran, and there was a woman running next to her – long raven hair, frightened eyes, and a white dress, floating like a pair of wings behind her. The woman kept looking at her, with pauses of seconds, and then looking ahead – the long, long corridor, it wasn't ending – then at her, then ahead again.

Finally, she did realize. That woman was herself, and the wall was covered by a mirror. She turned her head to the other side – another mirror, and infinite versions of herself running, in a loop of white raven-haired ghosts. She looked down, down to the floor, and her eyes met her own gaze, because the floor too was a mirror, and – the ceiling was a mirror, and she was running, from – from _someone_ , she couldn't even remember, why was she so scared?

Another look at her right, and her reflection grinned at her – but she was sure, she was not grinning in return – her reflection brought up her hands, to her face – she realized she had a white mask, and her hands flew up, the mask was starting to press around her face. Frantically, she searched for the ribbons, without slowing down, hands finding her hair and… nothing else.

She was running, and her fingers went on searching, feeling the contours of the mask around her eyes, pulling it, but – it was _glued_ to her skin – it was _melting_ , mask and skin together in a unique fusion, her heart hammering faster in her chest – the panic redoubled, and she glanced at her reflection again. She felt her feet slowing down, finally, she neared herself to the mirror. One step, two steps, she stopped, panting, lifted a hand until her fingers touched the cold surface, immediately mirrored by the other woman.

And the reflection grinned again, and she saw a red spot in her white dress – their dress – a red pool, wider and wider, right in the middle of her chest, between her breasts. And an excruciating pain, right _there_ , the blood red, like wine – no, not red, almost black – black spreading out in the dress, eating all the white, up to her mask, the reflection was smiling widely.

"No," she whispered, but her double was now laughing. The dress was black, the mask was black, the last remnants of white disappearing quickly.

" _Welcome, angel of death_ ," she said, in a perfect replica of her voice.

She felt her mouth was slowly opening to scream, but nothing exited.

She stared at the mirror, and heard a noise, louder, louder – was it… water? Her double was laughing, like a mad woman. Her arm flew up, she squeezed her fist, slamming it on the glass. The glass stilled, frozen for an instant, then a web of cracks began to unravel in front of her eyes. Her hand was red of blood, red from the shattered fragments, dirtying the black of her dress – red spirals on the black fabric, and something ended, something started.

A weird feeling, down – she looked down, at her feet, and there was water, sea water, rapidly rising, filling up the corridor, washing over the mirror. Her dress was heavy, soaked at the edges. The water went up, and up, the salt burning her skin where she had cut herself, reaching her waist, her breasts, the horrendous cut on her chest, up to her neck. And she couldn't move, she could only wait for the water to rise even more, because fluctuating up, to keep breathing, it wasn't an option – broken fragments of mirror around her, whirling –

Voices, all around her.

 _Regina, Regina? Regina!_ –

 _Regina?_

 _Regina…_

–

"Regina!"

She woke up with a jolt, slamming her eyes open, heartbeat still fast, and his blue eyes looking at her.

"Robin?"

He was lying next to her, his elbow pinning on the mattress and his head up, and he had this concerned look that never failed to make her heart flutter. He was scanning her face, his fingers brushing her cheek – she realized she had been crying, and probably screaming, and he had a worried frown.

"Are you okay?"

She couldn't hide a sudden hiccup, like a spasm, and she shook her head. He sighed, pulling her closer, and started rocking her gently. Images of the dream still haunted her mind, and she pressed her nose against his bare chest, inhaling his scent, while he was stroking her hair, murmuring _It's alright, it was just a dream, it's alright._ She tried to put all of her willingness not to cry, but the sobs were building rapidly inside of her, like angry bubbles, and she collapsed on his shoulder, her chest shaking up and down, _calm down, calm down_ , he repeated.

Had she been her usual self, she would have protested against his hold, maybe made fun of him for being so cuddly, but her heartbeat had just started slowing down. She didn't know for how long he had held her, but after a while, she had replaced the horrible visions from her sleep with the calm darkness of the room. "It was just a dream," he repeated, whispering. But was it? Just a dream? She focused on her breaths, inhaling, exhaling, her eyes closed now, and on his hand on her back. _This is real, his hand is real, it was a dream, don't worry_. It took a while, he didn't protest, just held her. "I think I'm okay now," she said quietly. He pulled away from her, meeting her eyes in the dull shades of light from the half-closed shutter.

"You want to sleep a little more?"

She nodded, closing her eyes, and went to snuggle against him. A heartbeat of hesitation. Normally, when she was like this, sleep didn't come easily. Maybe, this once, though… Not to mention, this time she was exhausted. His arm slid above her stomach, and she finally relaxed, with a content sigh. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling his slow breaths against her hair. His answer was so low she thought she had imagined it.

"Always."

§§§

He woke up slowly, that morning, the light was now sharper and it hurt his eyes. He moaned, trying to stretch his arm, but finding out it was trapped under a very naked and beautiful body. He lifted the other arm, feeling still groggy, his vision blurry, and went to caress her slowly, beaming when she stirred.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but she shut her eyes down almost instantly.

"Good morning, beautiful," he cooed, and felt her smile against his chest.

"Mmm," she answered. Her skin was warm, and soft – he inhaled the rich scent of her hair, memories of the previous night flooding his mind. Regina bare and gorgeous, trembling in pleasure as he undressed her slowly, Regina dancing with him, a red mask covering her features, Regina screaming, lost in her satisfied desire, when she had finally let him slide inside of her – Regina waking him up in tears and scaring him –

"What time is it?" she sighed contently, her head still pillowed just under his own. He shook away the unpleasant thoughts. As he scrambled his hand away from her bare forms towards the nightstand, he imposed himself to calm down, that it had been a simple nightmare, and it had nothing to do with him or the ball. And yet, he thought as he swiped the screensaver, and yet the ball hadn't exactly been easy. _Gold, and Ingrid_ , he remembered. The deal, and the secret garden, and the sensation of danger. Lingering in the air, like a ghost, always present, it had glided into Regina's dream. He felt a surge of fierce protectiveness, all of a sudden. Who was that man, that he could enter her subconscious and make her cry in fear?

And she wasn't like that, Robin knew it. She was bold, and she was courageous. This… exposure of hers, in the middle of the night, had been a casual, unique event? Or there was more?

"It's eight," he informed her, and she moaned, protesting, then chuckling lightly as he dropped a kiss on her hair.

"Let's stay here forever," she proposed, fingers brushing his skin. He smiled, sinking in the mattress.

"Fine by me," he agreed. He started toying with one of her dark locks, rolling and unrolling it around his index. "Are you… alright, Regina?"

He had to add it, because there was a knot of worry in his stomach. And although he was _there_ , with this stunning woman in his arms, he felt this wasn't the blissful morning it could have been under different circumstances.

"Yes, why?" she answered, lifting her eyes to meet his.

Robin's hand went down to circle her waist, under the sheets. He didn't speak, but looked at her, taking in her face, her frown, the lovely shadows of ancient freckles, her olive skin. "Your… nightmare," he started.

She shook her head, slightly, the ghost of a smile pulling up her lips. "Don't worry, it happens quite frequently," she said, almost nonchalantly, like it was normal to wake up crying. His hand was splayed above her stomach, and he subconsciously started a path of soothing caresses, gentle strokes meant to comfort her.

"Are you sure you are –" he began, but his voice broke. And his hand stopped.

Regina's skin tensed under his touch. She flatted her stomach, escaping his hand. Her eyes were avoiding him, looking down. _Shit_. He lifted slowly his fingers, but couldn't avoid one last light brush. Silence fell between them, and no one was willing to dare and speak first.

A thousand of thoughts passed through his mind, shame and worry being the most pressing, and Regina was still staring at the sheets, eyes out of focus.

"I…" he tried to say, but she immediately lifted one hand to stop him.

"Wait," she murmured.

"For what?"

"Give me one moment."

He nodded, slowly, giving up all his attempts of understanding her. She was keeping her hand on his, his hand which had gone where it shouldn't have gone, and there was silence again. He could almost hear the far swooshing of the waves, from the channel flowing near the palace.

He didn't have a clue about what she was waiting for, but he waited with her, focusing on the warmth of her hand, on the slow, imperceptible rising and lowering of her shoulders. He didn't have a clue about how much time had passed. He didn't have a clue about what she was thinking of, why she was biting her lip, and taking deep breaths.

And finally, she spoke.

"I… didn't want you to… know about _this_ in this way," she began, uncertain. He felt a pang of guilt, felt like he was pushing her to reveal something she was not his to know, and yet, she turned on the mattress, she turned to face him. He had expected her eyes to be teary, but instead, she had this… _hard_ gaze. He saw only decision in her eyes, and maybe – trust, it was trust. She _trusted_ him with this.

"But I wanted you to know, sooner or later, and… I don't want to hide anymore," she told him. She moved her hand, the hand that was holding the sheets – she moved it down, and he watched, dumbstruck. She uncovered her breasts, he couldn't help but enjoying that glorious vision, in the sunlight of the morning, before kicking himself – because this wasn't the time for _that_.

She stopped, glancing at him, and he shook his head. "You don't have to, you know," he said. "Whatever it is you want to tell me, I can wait…"

Her head lifted, her eyes meeting his, and he held her gaze for long seconds. Then, with a last deep breath, her hands fisting nervously the cotton, she pushed down the sheets, uncovering her stomach. What Robin had just touched with his fingers became a clear image in front of his eyes.

§§§

 _Give me a moment_ , she had told him, trying to gather her courage. She summoned images of the previous night, to give her strength. _It's Robin_ , she thought. _He likes you. He has slept with you. You can't have sex with the lights off forever_. _You're lucky you managed to, yesterday night._

And yet, she was almost terrified.

 _Give me a moment, because it could be the last moment you look at me without pitying eyes. Give me a moment, so I can pretend – for just one moment – that we are nothing more than two people who made love, and slept together, and woke up in each other's arms_.

He was trying to give her space, to reassure her, and it was wonderful, and she nearly fell into this temptation – not to tell him yet, to wait a little more, but she couldn't. She didn't want to.

And before she could change her mind, the white fabric went down.

There was a scar, running through her stomach. It started from her hip-bone and went up, for about four inches, not too big, but of a blue-black color, with the classical stretched marks of the stitches. And it was an enhanced sign, visible.

She was piercing his face with the intensity of her gaze. She was trying to read every shade of his expression, ready to back off at the first trace of pity or compassion.

She saw surprise, at first. The only-hinted widening of his eyes, and then she saw him biting the inner of his cheek, eyes roaming over her scar. She would have given up almost anything, in that instant, to know what he was thinking. When he lifted his eyes, she felt her breaths accelerate slightly, and expected to be pushed away – it would have hurt, but then, she was… _damaged_ , and _marked_ , for… well, for _life_ –

"Regina," he whispered. She didn't answer. Her eyes flew away from his, but his fingers trailed up to her chin, gentle, careful. "I…" he tried, letting out a breath, then resumed his words. "You are so beautiful, love," he said, and she nearly scoffed at that. _Really?_ She had just shown him one of her biggest reasons of shame and fear of judgement, and he was trying to make her feel better like _that_?

He clearly sensed he had got something wrong, because he shook his head, his hand moving from her chin to the nape of her head. His other hand, however, landed tentatively on her thigh, then went up, and she stood silent, waiting, _waiting_ to see what he was going to do.

He arrived at her hip, right near the scar, and glanced at her, as if he was asking for permission.

She nodded, gazing down, following the path he was drawing, and felt him push her mildly towards the mattress. She lowered herself, her back coming into contact with the mattress, hypnotized by his eyes. It was… it was almost like he was rediscovering her body, as if it was completely new, right there, bathed in the light of day.

He started to kiss her. Not just that, he started to talk to her. He was whispering against her skin, lips leaving feather kisses here and there. On her knee. "This part of you, is beautiful," he murmured. He went up. A kiss to the inner of her thigh. "This part of you, is amazing," he continued. Up again, to her shoulder. "This part of you, is strong." So lightly, near her nipple. "This part of you, is exciting." Down, shy of her entrance, just above her clit.

 _Oh_.

Her fingers grasped the sheets, but she kept watching him. A kiss on her stomach. "This part of you, is tender." And then, he glanced up at her, with the beginning of an affectionate smile – it made her heart swell and curl in pleasure.

His lips went just _there_ , where the offending scar was, and he left three smaller kisses, oh, _so_ sweetly. "And this part of you… is resilient. And is what I admire most, because you decided to keep going."

She closed her eyes, and felt herself smile, and she thought she could have started to cry, it was so easy, right there, because he was wonderful, and she didn't deserve it, none of it. Because… how had she got so lucky? And before she could give in to the dark shadows of her mind – they had already started telling her things like _You know what happens when you care about someone_ , and _Everyone leaves you in the end_. _He's just happy he got to have you during the night. He's just pretending, silly girl, he doesn't care in the slightest_ – before of _these_ thoughts, he was _kissing_ her, and she was parting her lips to welcome him, her hands between his hair, dragging him closer.

He kissed her, and kissed her, just because he could, with gentle pecks, then deepening his hold, pressing her against him, fingers tangled between her hair. "Thank you," she breathed, when he let her go, trying to put in those words all the sentiment she could muster.

"I meant it," he said, earnestly. "You _are_ beautiful, no matter how many scars you have."

And right there, laying on that bed where he had made love to her for the first time, where he had discovered one of her deepest fears, soothed her nightmares, made her tremble in pleasure, right _there_ , it hit her. She was already in too deep. He had entered her soul like the water washes over the sand, slowly, and then going back, and then up again. That morning smelled like sea and salt, tears and sex, and it was beautiful.

"You…" she started, unsure on how to continue. Unsure, because she didn't know if she was about to ruin it all, to ruin all the peace he had brought to her soul. "You aren't going to ask me about it?"

He shook his head, then went to lay beside her, his hand stroking her bare stomach, a feather touch that got her instant goosebumps. "Not today," he assured. "When you're ready – and I think you've said enough for today."

Regina nodded, with a thankful, heartfelt, just whispered _okay_ , her hand went up to circle his neck, and she stared into his eyes, in silence, waiting. He brought one of her dark locks back behind her ear, his face close to hers on her pillow, and he nuzzled his nose with hers, in an affectionate bump.

"And thank you for tonight, the ball, and… everything," he added, causing her to smile. She wanted to say something witty, just to revive heated memories, but…

"Sorry I've… woken you up," she answered, and _god_ , why was her voice so _shy_? Why did she keep returning to that subject? And yet, he was still _there_ , at her side. "It has been a hell of a ball, indeed."

"Ah, that is true," he said. His thumb was stroking her cheek, his eyes impossibly close. "A ball I won't forget soon, you can be sure of that," he continued. He had his eyes locked to hers, and a thought crossed her mind, _I'm not the only one who's nervous about this_ – because the previous night had been a sublime perfection, and it had been so easy to lose themselves in one another. This… morning after, on the other hand… it had been _special_. His voice, when he spoke again, was a mere breath, as if he didn't want to burst their little bubble. "Listen… would you like to come to my place… and let me cook you breakfast?"

 _Oh_. Her heart jumped a little, because it was so sweet – that he wasn't ready to let her go yet. "That sounds lovely," she murmured. "But we both know… I'm not dressed in the right way for that."

"I'm sure Ingrid could borrow you something," he shrugged, kissing the tip of her nose. He slid one hand down to take hers. "Shall we go, then?"

§§§

Half an hour later, she was watching him fish his keys out of his pocket. He was still dressed in his suit, holding a carefully zipped plastic bag with her dress inside. Regina, on the other hand, was wearing a white, long-sleeved dress, kindly given by Elsa, who had been _delighted_ to find her with her aunt.

And so they had strolled down the streets, some of them still wet and muddy from the high waters of the previous night, with blackish remnants of dirt, and she had had to waltz between thin puddles, in high heels, towards Robin's house. His place was a nice nook between two higher buildings, not too far from the palace, and he had glanced at her somehow sheepishly before pushing the door to let her in.

It was a small apartment, white walls and dark door, two steps to help preserve the floors from the waters. Small, but quite elegant, considering he was almost never here during the year, and she briefly wondered – who was the caretaker? And why did he still have a place there, after all the years passed from his studies in Venice?

She didn't get to see much of it, because he was already guiding her towards the kitchen – just the essentials, fridge and oven and counter, and one of those tables attached to the wall, with high stools and a basket of fruit on top of it.

"What would you like to eat?" his voice came from the counter, and she snapped her eyes at him, smiling in response.

"Eggs?" she tempted, shrugging. She didn't know if he was good at cooking, so she settled for something not too difficult to make.

He lifted one eyebrow, as if he was challenging her. "Scrambled?"

"Will do, I guess," she said. "I wouldn't say no to some bacon, though. I had Italian breakfasts, these days, and I think I miss the American way."

"And bacon you shall have," he nodded solemnly, starting to pull out ingredients from the fridge. She nodded in return, watching him, the way he moved in the kitchen, the way he broke the eggs.

They stood silent for a while, Regina observing him, when he spoke.

"So… care to tell me about Emma?" he threw her a glance above his shoulder. "If you want, of course."

She stretched a bit on the stool, her chin going to rest on her closed fist. "I guess I owe you that one, yes," she smiled, remembering their little exchange before Ingrid's speech.

And she started to talk. She told him of Emma – of how they'd met at school, forced to share a desk, and the blonde little tomboy was nothing like the pretty refined brunette. Emma had been a wild and curious child, always in detention. She told him of her own mother, of her recurrent work trips abroad, and of Emma running from her foster parent's house to hide at Regina's. It hadn't been that bad, though: having a friend at school, a friend who was willing to keep her on track and make sure she studied for tests, had let Emma have a somewhat good relationship with her adoptive parents.

 _I wish your Dad could adopt me, so I could be your sister_ , she had confided to Regina one night, in tears, after an ugly fight with them.

Robin let her speak, and kept tending to the eggs, finally sliding a plate under her nose. Regina began to eat, knocking back forkfuls of egg, and gulping down one sip of juice. He didn't interrupt her, and she alternated morsels and words.

"She had a… difficult time, after high school," she continued. "Bad companies, and we… lost each other for a while," she said, with a sudden wave of sadness. That time had been awful, watching Emma sink deeper into a vortex of crappy days, having to pay her bail once or twice – nights in prison, little thefts with her boyfriend, who had knocked her up and then flown away.

"My father helped her, when she got pregnant," Regina said. She felt Robin reach for her hand and squeeze lightly. "It was about… five years ago, and sometimes is hard to think that… _that_ Emma and _this one_ are the same person. She got a job, and finally let me in, and I got my friend back, and a wonderful little boy to watch over and spoil with ice cream…"

Robin nodded, as she fiddled with the remnants of her bacon. "So she named him after your father?"

"Emma was eight month pregnant when Daddy died," she explained. "She was working part-time, and we have been… devastated," she admitted. "You see, she grew up with me. Mother was… tough, to say the least… but Daddy was wonderful with us."

"You and Emma, you… seem to have a unique bond," he observed, and she smiled at that.

"Are you worried of meeting her?" she asked, only half-joking – she really wanted to know his answer.

"That depends," he frowned. "Is she worse than Mal?"

Regina laughed, throwing him a glance from above her glass. "Different kinds of evil, dear," she smirked. "Mal looks like she could kill you, but, deep down, she's caring and forgiving… Emma looks like she's a sweet angel, but you should see her when she's pissed off. I think I had to pay for a drink, once, to bribe a guy out of reporting her to authorities, for punching him…"

She spotted Robin's concerned face and smiled. "They're protective, don't worry, you'll be able to handle them," she told him. "Now, why don't you tell me of _your_ friends?"

His frown opened into a smile. She continued to eat, and listening to him while he talked about his friends, and sitting on a stool in his kitchen and laughing at his anecdotes – there was a little something, swirling in her mind. _I could easily get used to this kind of morning with him_.

She listened – about John, when he had had to invite a girl to the ball, at school, and he had asked her every morning for one month in thirty different ways until she had said yes, and that girl was now his wife – about Alan, when he had convinced Robin to go camping and then forgotten the tents – after a while, she was relishing in being lulled by his voice, her elbow pinned on the table, her head resting on her open hand, and an idiotic smile on her mouth.

 _I'm already used to this_.

§§§

One hour later, Regina found Mal in her room – slightly bigger than hers, but not so full of light. She was surrounded by paperwork, cursing over her laptop. The window was open, and she had lit a cigarette. When Regina entered, she blew the smoke out, shutting the screen of the computer close.

"Everything okay?" Regina asked carefully, and Mal groaned, pressing the stub into the ashtray.

"We'll never win this case, honey," she said, annoyed. "This guy has the worst combination of charges I've seen in years, and I have yet to understand why on _hell_ , why is Gold _so_ confident we'll win, why has he accepted to defend him?"

"Because he likes impossible challenges?" Regina asked, sitting on her bed.

"Because he, and I quote, _doesn't fail_ ," she answered, rubbing her neck. "Anyway, how was the ball?" she smiled, leaning on the chair, and stretched a hand to take her lighter. Regina averted her eyes, not sure on how to begin. Mal took another cigarette, and sighed contently when she inhaled the first breath.

"It was… fine, I guess," Regina answered, because she had no idea on how to start telling her about the ball, and the new mystery, and she wasn't even sure she ought to tell her about that.

"Just fine?" Mal smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "Then I suppose you're back at…" she glanced at her watch, "eleven in the morning, because you two spent the night playing cards?"

"Oh, shut up," Regina huffed. "I'm not giving away any detail, okay?"

Mal kept smoking in silence, scrutinizing her face, until she smiled. "You can keep the dirty details for yourself, just tell me about the ball," she continued. "I know you only talk about sex if you're drunk…"

"Mal!"

"What?"

Regina lifted her eyes to the ceiling – unlike her room's one, this ceiling was an intricate pattern of flowers and ivy, painted carefully in green and pink and violet. " _Fine_ ," she said, annoyed. "So, he brought me a white rose…" she started, and Mal looked at her contently, crossing her legs and preparing herself to listen.

§§§

The morning after, Regina had to take a boat in order to get to the courthouse. It was quite near to Granny's house, but she managed to ruin her best camisole with a splash of water lifted from a passing motorboat. Mal followed her into the bathroom, where she was inspecting the damage – she hadn't paid more than a glance to the splendor of the palace, situated near the Grand Canal, with a series of elegant white arches and ochre walls.

Regina put some soap on a paper towel, hissing through her teeth – _just wonderful_ , right during the first day of the trial. "That's a damn lucky sign," she said, rubbing the stain.

Mal shrugged, adjusting her perfectly curled hair. "Just button your blazer, darling, you'll be fine," she told her. "Come on, Gold will have your head if you're late." She went out, with a last smirk, and Regina sighed, renouncing to fix the damage, and followed her.

The trial was awful. She had experience of trials in foreign countries, and they were all the same. She had been in Spain and France, both times with Gold, but it had lasted three week tops, _divide and rule_ , and they had managed to go back home… home, to Henry and Daniel… But this time, her boss had asked for two months. _Why exactly two months?_ This trial, was the front for something more? The defendant, she had never met him – he was a fresh face in her horizon, and since Gold had brought them his name, she was wondering if there was something about him, something that Gold wasn't telling them.

 _How stupid_ , she thought, following Mal across endless corridors, their heels ticking on the marble floor. A general rule was to inform the team of everything that could have been useful to the trial. _What's his game?_

Was it a hidden scheme, a deal between Gold and the defendant? _Wouldn't be the first time_ , she thought bitterly. And yet, what she had heard at the ball was increasing her worry, and Ingrid's words resounded in her head, _this isn't legal_. She shook the thought off. Why was she implying that the Ingrid affair had something to do with _this_ particular trial?

 _I have to talk with Robin_ , she decided, stopping right beside Mal in front of the main door – the door which led to the court room.

"About time you two showed up," Gold said, calmly, ignoring the annoyed look Mal threw him. Arthur arrived in that moment, surrounded by a blatant smell of smoke – his usual pre-trial cigarette, and Regina started opening her mouth to tell Gold they couldn't be _so_ late, if Arthur was gracing them with his presence only then, but Mal placed a hand on her arm. "Leave him," she whispered.

They went inside, finding a stranger standing beside the defense's desk. He was tall, bald for the most part, with greyish tufts at the sides of his head. He was talking with a blonde young woman, who must have been his assistant, because she nodded and slid away while he turned to greet Gold.

"Duff, always a pleasure," he said, with a thick accent. "Too bad the circumstances are a little… complicated, aren't they?"

"Ah, I wouldn't have fun, if it were otherwise," Gold smiled, shaking his hand. "May I introduce you to my resourceful team? I don't believe you've ever met them… this is Arthur Knight…" he started pointing at them, listing their names. "My wife Belle, you have met her – and Elsa Noelle, our youngest associate… Mallory Drake…"

Mal had that plasticized smile that only a few people – someone who knew her well – could have told apart from a real one. Her expression was weird, and Regina wondered why… it was as if she was disgusted from this man.

"… and this is Regina Mills," ended Gold, and she had to shake the man's hand. He held on to her a bit longer, and she had to slide her finger away from his grasp. "Everyone, this is our judge, Leopold Bianchi…"

"Very pleased to meet you all," Judge Bianchi said, talking to all of them, but looking at her. She averted her gaze, feeling unpleasantly scrutinized, and knowing that his gaze was falling briefly on her cleavage. Mal coughed slightly, and crossed her arms on her chest.

"Should we start?" she asked coldly.

"I think it would be best," Regina added, lifting her eyes towards Gold. "Besides, we don't want anyone thinking that the defense is flattering the judge, do we? Because _that_ would be embarrassing… almost like having a snake in a nest of innocent birds," she said, smiling kindly at Leopold, who suddenly frowned. His gaze turned hard, but she kept watching him, until he nodded.

"You would consider yourself as an innocent bird, Miss Mills?"

Regina felt everyone's gazes on her skin, and Mal smirking at her side. _Oh_ , this was her game. This was exactly what she was born to do, her best talent. Pissing off other people… with diplomacy.

"Oh, Mister Bianchi, what did you understand? I am the _snake_ ," she answered, watching him while he lifted his eyebrows. "If I were you, I'd be careful not to be bitten," she ended, trying to hide the quiet triumph of her voice.

"I'll keep that in mind," he told her, sliding one hand down to lift hers to his mouth, kissing her knuckles before she could have the chance to avoid it.

He motioned for Gold to follow him towards the prosecutor. Once they were alone, Regina met Elsa's worried look – but Belle and Mal were smiling at her, as if she had just put some kind of victory flag on their desk. "Well done, little viper," Mal whispered, sitting down, and she smiled back.

She toyed with a pen for a few minutes, throwing glances towards Gold and Bianchi, who were talking quickly, in ushered whispers, before the judge could finally shake Gold's hand one last time and head to his chair.

"We now start with the first trial of the day, for the records: Judge Leopold Bianchi, the jury, in the presence of the prosecution team from Heller's & Co., of the defense team from Gold Associates, and the defender, Jefferson Kingsleigh, with the impending charges of: border violation, illegal drug trade, suspicion of kidnapping…"

§§§

On Friday morning, she was growing anxious. She hadn't seen Robin in two days, and it was such a short time for not seeing someone. After breakfast, on Wednesday, they had parted ways with the promise of calls and another meeting, and on Thursday there had been work, and today work too, and she was tired.

And he was not answering.

She had told herself that maybe there was a reason, maybe his phone had broken, because he absolutely wasn't the kind of person who sleeps with someone and then doesn't reach them in some way.

Two days of hell, and all she needed right now were his arms and his advices and his silent strength. It wasn't quite like her, to go after someone – she liked to be chased down, but damn it, she wanted an explanation. Did this make her weak, wanting an explanation? Did this make her look like an idiot – this surprise visit?

No, she needed to talk. A long talk with someone who wasn't Mal or Ruby or Granny, and maybe, later, she was going to try and convince him to show her that bedroom of his…

She tried to picture Emma's face if she could have read her mind. Truth was, without… this, this _thing_ that was growing between her and Robin, if there wasn't this other _thing_ she had to investigate upon, she would already have kissed goodbye to this case.

Gold had not reacted well to her little showdown at the trial – he had just frowned, disapprovingly, but called her later, and told her to get a grip, or else to start looking for a new job. _Bianchi is a fundamental pawn to win this trial, Regina_ , he had hissed, grabbing her arm, as if he wanted to talk to her in private. _He may think he's the king of the chessboard, but he's not – I am. I control all of this, dearie, so whether you stop being a rejecting, ungrateful stupid girl, or you're done. That would be a shame, though. You could be my ace in the hole, the queen who wins the game… if you let me show you how._

Mal had been pissed at that. She had said _Regina, that little idiot wants to mess with you because he's angry, because he couldn't go on without your participation, without you in the team_. _You had every right to react in that way, and you know it_. But she knew better.

She wanted to start investigating. She wanted to _know_ , to find out what he was planning to do with Ingrid, and those whispers with Judge Bianchi were suspect to say the least, no matter what Gold had told her, that impish two-faced man. Maybe it was only her imagination… _Trust your gut; it's always right_ , her mind said in an extraordinary well-placed imitation of Emma's voice.

She hadn't told Mal about Gold and Ingrid. Not yet, she had to talk with Robin first. They had to come up with a plan, because she trusted Mal – and she was sure there were people Robin trusted, too, but she couldn't say a word, _not yet_.

She shook her head, strolling down the streets of Venice. It was almost seven, and the sun had already gone down – to drown in the sea and surge again in further places. She shivered, tying the belt of her grey coat, and glanced at the restaurant near Granny's B&B – it was a nice place, cozy and not too crowded, and she thought that she could have brought Robin there, sooner or later. _Maybe even tonight_.

Oh, she had missed him.

How was that possible? _Friday_ , she told herself. _I met him a week ago, and we already kissed and danced and he has seen me sick, and he has made love to me, we have drunk together and he has met Mal… and he has seen my scar and cooked me breakfast and heard my stories…_

Maybe it was too fast.

A _gondola_ passed near her, pushed slowly by a handsome man dressed in black and white. Regina threw a look at the passengers – not two lovers, but four teenagers, chirping cheerfully and taking selfies in the middle of the channel. She sighed, bringing up a hand to replace a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

Robin's place, she had discovered, was only ten minutes away from Granny's house. Convenient, but even ten minutes were too long when you had to walk in the impossibly high heels she used for work. She was already spotting the pale green building near his apartment – a rather strange color, but Ruby had told her that in one of the small islands near Venice, Burano, all houses were painted with vivid shades.

Nearing the house – _finally_ , her feet were starting to kill her – she smiled, slightly, because no matter how stressed she was about the last days – seeing him was a salve to her soul. It was scary, how fast she had gotten used to this – to them, falling into domesticity, and feeling she could have continued to wake up next to him, and that she didn't want it to stop. She thought of the night that had yet to begin, of how she wanted nothing more than a kiss and maybe a hug to soothe her worries – _for now_ – and how wonderful it was not being alone anymore. Well, she wasn't alone – she had her family and friends, but it wasn't the same as having a partner.

A _partner_.

The world rolled on her tongue, a mere whisper as she took the last steps towards the house. She hadn't had a partner for years, and it was so weird – so different from when she was with Daniel. She was all different, not so naïve to believe in things like _forever, always_. But maybe, it wasn't like that, for him. Maybe she was just a fling, a shooting star of some dances and occasional sex, and she didn't mean so much.

But she had seen something _more_ , in his eyes. Something that had brought a warm, tiny ball of hope to blossom in her chest since their meeting, growing stronger and warmer.

She felt herself becoming calm, more serene, and approached to the steps, ready to knock, when her gaze fell to the next window. The curtain was disclosed, elegantly folded on a side, and she glanced inside, and immediately regretted it.

There was Robin, in the living room, and he wasn't alone.

She froze in her steps, her hand still lifted, and kept watching. He was standing in front of a woman – blonde, probably pretty, she couldn't see her face, only a cascade of silver gold and a red dress. She saw him take her hand, talking fast, agitated. The woman nodded, and he smiled, kissed her cheek – threw his arms around her neck and hugged her.

Something broke inside of Regina's heart, with a shattering sound.

She recoiled from the door, with one last look – Robin's arms were still around the woman's waist – the same arms that had circled her while she slept. She turned and ran away, the pain at her feet completely forgotten, and tears were starting to sting. When the first one fell, she had already reached the middle of the bridge.

All she wanted, right now, was to reach her room. One single thought, in her mind.

 _I know, deep inside, that hope doesn't work._

 _Then why do I keep hoping?_


	8. I fear a Man of frugal Speech

_Yes, you're not hallucinating, this actually is a very surprising update! A lil' hiatus never killed nobody (except for my almost frozen over ass, some people will get what I mean). So be nice and drop me a quick word just to let me know if I have lost my touch with these two, lol  
I apologize in advance for any screaming I'm about to cause. Enjoy! XXx  
_

* * *

 _ **I fear a Man of frugal Speech**_

 _I fear a Man of frugal Speech -  
I fear a Silent Man -  
Haranguer - I can overtake -  
Or Babbler - entertain -  
But He who weigheth - While the Rest -  
Expend their furthest pound -  
Of this Man - I am wary -  
I fear that He is Grand – _

Regina wasn't answering.

He tried to reach her on Friday evening, but was met by the empty sound of an ignored phone. He got all sort of thoughts, on those days – he wanted to give her space, because maybe he had fucked things up on Tuesday – or worse, during the night, maybe she didn't like him as much as he thought she did.

Truth was, he had tried to reach her also on Thursday without an answer, and by now he knew the sound of her voicemail by heart. _This is Regina Mills, please leave me a word after the sound…_

He was missing her. So, instead of pining over a woman who wouldn't reply to his calls, he'd tried to focus on work and on calling his son. He'd stayed on Skype with Roland for two hours straight – Regina wasn't the only one he was missing, his heart was aching for his boy as well – though, of a very different kind of pain.

He stirred over the couch, shut his laptop down and closed his eyes.

Roland was a bright child, he truly was. He represented the only person who could make him talk to Marian – their split hadn't been amicable at all, they'd understood they were simply not meant to be together. And Marian _was_ a good mother. He liked to think of himself as a good father too – even if this trip in Italy had brought some shadows of regret to his mind.

Roland didn't seem to be bothered by his absence – _not yet_ , a hidden part of him thought. He was gone since a little more than a week – and he knew all too well he was supposed to stay in Venice for a month, he already had his flight tickets booked, but just yesterday Ingrid had mentioned that maybe she would have needed the team there for a bit longer.

And precisely that possibility had been the perfect fuel for a good fight with Marian. _You're not thinking of your son_ , she'd said, digging deep into his chest, uncovering his already growing guilt. _It's work, Marian_ , he had answered. _You know how things go_.

 _Then maybe you should rethink about your job_ – her words had cut, because she had always been like that – at first, supporting, but when the job got in her way, suddenly she wasn't so happy about it. It had been the main reason behind their endless fights, their respective jobs. Words had been painful and probably unfair – too many times. In that moment, he would have given a lung for a renewed relationship with Marian – not a romantic one, that chapter was closed for good, but at least a… friendly one? At least some sort of connection, because she couldn't seem to even try and put herself into his shoes.

But it was hard to reach this level of empathy through Skype and phone calls. _I'll have to think about it_ , he promised himself. _As soon as I land in America, I'll have a long talk with my ex-wife, and for Roland's sake I want to get to know the latest version of Marian, because maybe I'm still going by the old ways, and she's changed._

He opened his eyes, comforted by the resolution, and checked his phone again. All the warmth Roland had brought into his heart seemed to fade away like a bubble that explodes.

No answer.

But it was Friday evening, and it was late, and it was too late to go at her apartment. Should he actually have the courage to go there… maybe it was pushing too much, maybe she had her reasons. But not hearing from her since Wednesday, it was… concerning. He decided to give her time until Sunday afternoon, and then he would have gone there – at least to ask Ruby how Regina was.

He sighed, tossing the phone on the couch.

It was going to be a long weekend.

§§§

Robin wasn't answering.

 _Because you didn't call him again_.

But even before of the… fact, when she had caught him hugging a pretty blonde, he hadn't been answering.

 _Maybe it's not what you think. Maybe_ she _is not what you think._

And then why wouldn't he call me?

 _He had his reasons. You couldn't know, you met him last week._

And still… I thought I was able to read him. I thought he was… he was a good one. One of the good ones.

 _You think too much. Why does it bother you? You don't… love him already, do you? Because that would be foolish. And stupid. And weak._

.

On Sunday morning, Regina rolled over her bed, groaning. Her headache was getting worse, and she blinked in the sunlight, cursing for the first time the brightness of the room. She didn't remember much of the previous evening. Mal had dragged her outside, sick and tired of her sulking. And they had drunk.

Regina had always thought herself able to hide her emotions. She was a lawyer, for crying out loud, she _had_ to be good at it. Acting.

But evidently, when it came to Robin Locksley, all of her acting skills simply disappeared, because she was as easy to read as an open book.

"Okay, you skipped dinner," Mal had said on Friday night, opening the door of her bedroom. "And I get you can have your reasons, but Granny is worried about your health," she had rolled her eyes, without smiling, "so tell me what's wrong, honey."

After the tale, Regina was expecting her friend to go and murder Robin right away – she had half an idea to do it herself, to be completely honest – but Mal had simply gone downstairs to retrieve a tray full of crackers, ham and a bottle of wine.

"We'll give him time," she had declared, popping the wine open with an expert move. "If he doesn't call before Monday, I'll go there and roast him."

"You can roast the blonde," Regina had replied, sitting on the bed next to the tray. "I think I'll do the honors with him, thanks."

And Mal had helped her finish the bottle, bid her goodnight, and she had thought the post-break-up strategy was finished – instead, Mal had asked Ruby about clubs in Venice, and they had gone dance on Saturday. She remembered Mal had stayed more or less sober, to watch on her, but the alcohol hadn't produced the desired effect. Instead, Regina had been victim of a sad kind of drunkenness, and that had probably worsened her situation.

Thus, her splendid Sunday headache.

And her phone was as silent as a tomb.

 _Damn Mal and her vodka shots_ , she thought, rising up on shaky legs. She knew that after two aspirins and some tea she would have gone back to almost-normal, but still, the sadness was lingering upon her soul. Sadness and… rage, in some way, rage at him, and at _herself_ for believing him.

 _How could I be so stupid_.

She swiped the phone's screensaver open – no calls, obviously, but there was an open tab from yesterday, and the memory shot through her like a bullet.

.

 _Regina was leaning on the counter, in the club, next to a nameless man whose face she had forgotten, and she was giggling like a school girl for something he had said. She could see Mal dancing not so far, out of the corner of her eye, and she knew Mal was occupied but still watching over her._

 _She motioned for the barman to pass her another drink, while listening to the man, who was rambling in a not-so-good English about Casanova. "You know him, Miss," he had said, "He's famous, right? Well, I think he'd have liked a girl like you," he continued, and suddenly his hand on her hip was not so pleasant, and she could feel his breath on her skin. "Or you have a Casanova already, uh?"_

 _She'd slid away, untangling herself from his hands, and threw him a smile (a halfway thing between sorry and disgust), before finding Mal and telling her_ Can we go home now, please? I'm tired of this…

.

And then, when she'd arrived home, she'd researched for this famous man she had heard of, but knew almost nothing about… And here was his Wikipedia page, still open after the previous night…

 _Giacomo Casanova was an Italian adventurer and author from the Republic of Venice. His autobiography,_ Histoire de ma vie _(Story of My Life), is regarded as one of the most authentic sources of the customs and norms of European social life during the 18th century. He has become so famous for his often complicated and elaborate affairs with women that his name is now synonymous with_ womanizer _._

And it continued, reading down, and her heart had broken all over again while she read…

 _Casanova advises, "There is no honest woman with an uncorrupted heart whom a man is not sure of conquering by dint of gratitude. It is one of the surest and shortest means."  
Alcohol and violence, for him, were not proper tools of seduction.  
Instead, attentiveness and small favors should be employed to soften a woman's heart, but "a man who makes known his love by words is a fool". _

What if this had happened to her too? It was an uncommon way to conquer a woman, that was for sure, an uncommon and antiquated way, but what if Robin had been acting this entire time just to lure her into his bed, what if the blonde was his latest catch?

The problem was that Regina didn't think she had an uncorrupted heart. Her heart had been bruised and hurt in many ways. If he thought she would react like Casanova's girls, sighing and pining after him, he was damn wrong. _Oh, he shouldn't have awakened my heart to treat it like this_ , she thought.

A small, ignored part of her knew she had to listen to him, at least, and give him the benefit of the doubt. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the tiredness wash over her body.

§§§

On Sunday, at six pm, he was knocking at Granny's door with the hesitant adrenaline that comes from meeting someone who probably doesn't want to see you.

Ruby opened the door in a fluid swing. He couldn't help but notice the difference between her welcoming smile, the first time he'd been there, and her expression now. She wasn't… angry, but more like concerned? Confused?

"What are you doing here?" she asked, widening the space between her body and the door just a bit.

"Is Regina home?" he replied shortly. He didn't owe her an explanation, after all…

Ruby lifted an eyebrow, scrutinizing his face for a long moment. "Wait, I'll go and see if she's back."

She left him there, staring at a half-opened door, waiting to know if the woman he liked so much would have wanted to see him.

He heard a commotion, on the other side, but resisted the temptation of peeking in to discover what was happening. At the end, Ruby was gone, and… there was Regina, _finally_ , and she wasn't smiling, but just seeing her, he was already feeling better, knowing she was not hurt or something like that… some thought he just couldn't fathom…

"Good evening," she said, coldly. "To what I owe the pleasure?"

He stared at her, dumbfounded, searching frantically in his memories to find something he must have done to piss her off like that. "Regina," he said, to gain time. "Can I come in?"

She didn't speak, but slid the door open to let him in – and yes, he supposed this was a small victory. As he entered the house – thankfully, a lot warmer than the outside – he was relieved to see that Ruby had disappeared, probably back in her room, and Granny or Mal were nowhere to be seen.

Regina led him in the kitchen, soldiering ahead of him, and motioned towards a chair. She sat in front of him, arms crossed on her chest, clearly waiting for him to start.

"So… where have you been these days?" he said, tentatively. He was walking on a minefield, here, and the only thing that was keeping him from getting angry was the fact that Regina seemed to be _angrier_ than him.

"That's rich coming from you," she muttered. "I was here, but evidently you're already tired of me, or else you'd have called, am I right?"

Robin narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "I have called, Regina," he said. "Multiple times, to be exact."

"I didn't get any call from you."

"That can't be."

"Well, it is," Regina's voice had lowered, as if she was holding back from yelling at him. She slid a hand inside the pocket of her jeans and fished out her phone. "See for yourself."

He took it, uncertain, and went directly to the list of calls. And she was right, no calls from him since their last one before the ball. "How can this be?" he said, surprised. In a matter of seconds he'd taken his own phone and called hers, and they both stared to her screen, that stayed silent.

Regina took a breath – he was willing to bet she was cursing whatever deity of technology had messed up with her phone.

"Well, it was easier than we thought," he said, letting the faintest shadow of happiness filter through his voice. Regina was still staring at her phone – he wondered why, it was nothing that a trip to some shop couldn't fix. "What is it?" he asked her, keeping his voice low. "We solved the mystery, you see?"

She reached out for the phone, replacing it into a pocket of her long sleeved sweater. "Yeah, I guess so," she said, still avoiding his eyes.

He felt all the relief he had gained go away, because she clearly had some other problem. And she clearly didn't have any intention of sharing it with him. He held back a sigh, feeling it would have pissed her off more than she already was, and tried to ask. "Regina, what is it?"

She glanced up at him – he didn't see shyness or that kindness he was already used to, in her eyes, but instead he saw some sort of… hurt, mixed up with rage. "It's nothing, don't worry," she cut in.

"Don't lie to me," he told her, slowly.

And that was it.

"Oh, so I shouldn't _lie to you_?" she hissed, and he was struck dumb by the poisoned bitterness he felt in her words. "And, pray tell, why should I have such courtesy in your regards, since you don't think _me_ worthy of the truth?"

He watched as she rose form her chair, and started pacing, taking deep breaths to calm down. His arms ached towards her, he wanted nothing else but to hold her. Instead, he had to fold his hands in his lap, and keep himself from reaching out. "What the hell are you talking about?"

As the words left his mouth, he regretted the drops of irritation in his voice. One of them needed to stay calm, in that dangerously fragile situation, and it clearly wasn't Regina. Regina, who had suddenly stopped in her tracks, facing him, hands on her hips.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Robin Locksley," she said, gritting her teeth. "Was it really that hard, to tell me you were tired of me and you wanted another woman?"

The absurdity of her words hadn't even started to reach his brain, when she continued. Her tone had changed – not so enraged anymore, but hurt and pained. "I get why, believe me," she said, and he watched, horrified, as the first tears started to build up in her eyes – she didn't blink, though, determined on carrying on. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be with," she said, looking at him in the eyes. "But I thought we were… building something, or at least going in that direction – I mean, in the right direction, and…"

He waited for a heartbeat, while she sniffed once, and regained her composure. "… and I'd like, at least – at _least_ , I think I have a right… to a reason. Because… I don't recall doing anything wrong, unless you just like to break hearts as a hobby. Well, guess what? If that's so, you can go to –"

She stopped right there, breathing heavily, and stared at him, waiting.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to have frozen – it felt a lot colder, now, that room, had it always been so cold? – and Robin was absolutely teared apart. He couldn't decide whether he should have kissed her right away, or yelled at her for this nonsense – or if he should have just gone away with a good slam of the door.

He chose another option, beginning with a single word.

"Regina," he started. "I'm about to ask you something very important… can you promise me you will believe me?"

"Believe you about _what_?"

"About the fact I absolutely ignore _why_ you are so enraged with me," he stated firmly. She began opening her mouth to protest, but he rapidly shook his head to stop her. "I'm serious, love," he said. "Now that we've determined the issue about the phone calls… and it was unpleasant, I admit, and it could have brought both of us towards certain thoughts we are not proud of… but if this is resolved, then what's the matter?"

She was still standing, and he was sitting in front of her – he watched as her hands tightened around the chair's backrest. She closed her eyes for a long moment, and breathed out before reopening them.

He felt she was about to tell him, _finally_ , when she went to sit in her chair for the first time since his arrival, and she looked so tired, he just wanted to hold her tight.

"On Friday evening, I came to your house," she said, without emotion in her words. "I already was a bit pissed because of the calls you wouldn't return, but now I know it wasn't your fault… anyway, I wanted to surprise you," she admitted, making his heart swell, and he held back a smile. "But when I arrived – I was about to knock, and… the curtains were half-closed, and I could peek inside your home," she continued.

She made a pause – this was the critical point, Robin could feel her battling against her own will to finish.

"And… I saw you, and… you were not alone."

Just like that, comprehension filled his heart, all at once. Together with it, an inexplicable willingness to laugh, but also a deep sorrow for the woman in front of him, who had misunderstood so terribly and suffered for it.

He smiled, though – he couldn't resist, because the relief was too much, but Regina wasn't smiling.

"Why _on hell_ are you laughing?" she spat out – the words that were intended to cut him had the opposite effect, and her voice cracked in the middle of the phrase.

"I'm sorry," he rushed to say. No doubt she was only seconds apart from slapping him, with such a frown. "It's just… oh, Regina," he smiled widely. "There's no other woman besides you, love."

She was silent for a moment, staring in disbelief, and even after that moment, she was only able to produce a soft _Oh_. He continued to wait until she asked.

"But then… who… who was the blonde with you?"

Robin didn't answer right away, but reached for the pocket of his coat and then for his wallet. He opened it, and retrieved an old picture, its corners all yellow and ruined.

He passed her the photo, watching her confused frown as she took and observed it. "Regina Mills, it is a pleasure to introduce you to my sister, Anastasia."

§§§

An _idiot_.

A complete, massive, gigantic, utter and _perfect_ idiot.

That's how she felt in that moment, her fingers gripping the picture. She had been staring at it for at least three whole minutes, not daring to lift her eyes from the smiling faces of Robin and his blonde sister.

Oh god. _His sister_.

She would have given almost anything to disappear, in that moment. To hide under the earth crust and go down, down until she reached the melting pot of lava and could burn of despair and embarrassment.

"Your… sister."

"Precisely," he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. "My sister, who lives in Venice since last year, because her husband currently works here."

Oh, _god_. Regina reached the table, placing down the picture, and still, she didn't lift her eyes. She didn't know what to say – except that she was feeling so damn _stupid_ , and it was taking all of her self-control not to run away and hide in shame.

"Robin, I…" she tried, but the words didn't quite exit her mouth. It was almost like something was burning in her throat, constricting it to a pit of flames.

He neared her with his hand, stopping just before touching her fingers. She covered the remaining distance and squeezed, finally lifting her eyes and meeting his gentle smile. "I have to say, darling, now that I know it was a misunderstanding, I quite fancy you all jealous," he joked, but she shook her head, groaning, and covered her forehead with her palm.

"I feel so _stupid_ ," she muttered. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

"Did you honestly think I'd have betrayed you like that?"

He pronounced the words lightly, but couldn't hide the hurt that still lingered in his mind. She lowered her hand to envelope his. "I'm sorry," she repeated. She was feeling her cheeks burning, by now, and every now and then she was glancing at the picture.

"Regina, stop saying you're sorry, for heaven's sake," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'd have done the same."

"You would have?"

"I'd probably have entered the room and questioned the man about his intentions without even asking who he was," he smiled. "You don't have a secret brother, do you?"

"No, just the sister I told you about," Regina answered, feeling like a heavy weight was being lifted from her chest.

"Well that's a relief," he chuckled. "But honestly, I thought I'd made myself clear, by now, on how much I care for you… and want you."

She suddenly became very aware of their proximity – during their talk, chairs had been shifted and hands had been intertwined, bringing them close, much closer than before. "Maybe…" she was waltzing on dangerous ground here, but she thought they were settled enough for her to poke a bit. "Maybe you haven't made yourself clear on how much you want _only_ me."

He lifted the corner of his lips, and raised an eyebrow. His hand left her gently to go up and cup her cheek. "Oh, haven't I?" he murmured. "Allow me to fix it, then."

Her head tilted almost unconsciously, as he neared her, his hand going from her cheek to the back of her head between her hair. When their mouths met, he initiated the kiss slowly, but quickened the pace almost instantaneously. He became hungry for her, she could feel it, nipping at her lip, his hand circling her neck, bringing her closer. She moaned softly – he smiled against her mouth, at the sound, then restarted kissing her, and it was nice, this was better, this was _them_ – she had missed this, she thought.

When Robin slid his hand down, around her waist, she scrambled up, trying not to break the kiss, and went to sit in his lap. She cupped his cheeks, continuing with the power play of their tongues, and shifted easily to settle better above his thighs. "Regina," he groaned, making her smile. She felt him hardening, under herself, and couldn't resist – she started rocking her ass against his erection, ever so slowly, gaining an immediate reaction from him.

"Bloody Christ, woman," he gritted through his teeth. "You are a wonder."

"I know," she whispered, shifting her lips to his ear, placing them on his neck. Her hand slid down to his upper leg, then in the middle, between his legs, to feel his bulge pressing over the fabric of his trousers. He moaned again in her ear – a low, guttural sound, which went straight to her already wet core. "I have a proposition for you," she said, in a tone she could only hope was tempting enough.

"What is it," he asked, without stopping the trail of kisses he'd just started placing on her neck. She closed her eyes for a second, just slightly… distracted.

"There's lasagna in the fridge," she whispered in the crook of his shoulder. "And then I suggest we go straight to my room, because – _ah_ – I am not done with you."

"How could I say no to such a program," he was still on her neck, but then, instead of leaving her, he began sucking her skin, making her tremble.

Her hand went to his shoulders, and although she was quite unwilling to interrupt their little… exchange, she was sure Granny would have had something to say, catching them at the start of a dry-hump in her kitchen. "Come on," she pushed gently, but moaned when his lips found a particular point of her skin.

After a moment, he finally stopped. "As milady wishes," he sighed. She got up slowly, taking his hand, and he followed her lead. He circled her from behind when she opened the door of the fridge, retrieving the leftovers.

As Regina opened the microwave, putting the plate inside, his hands were on her hips, ghosting just under her over-sized sweater. "If you keep distracting me, we'll never eat," she chastised jokingly, but leaned on him when his lips pressed on the crown of her head.

"Maybe I had something else in mind for dinner," he murmured. She felt his hand leave her hip and move towards her stomach, and she immediately covered it with her own before he could descend.

She watched the plate turn and turn inside the small oven, and closed her eyes, smiling. "You can keep _that_ for dessert," she suggested. "Even _if_ I do believe we have some pastries."

"Magical," he murmured in her ear.

They had dinner quickly; Regina perched on his lap again, occasionally stealing food from his fork. She thanked the heavens Mal had gone out for dinner, because the pretty picture they were currently representing was worthy of a Disney movie. Still, she relished in its sappiness, especially as he tapped her nose with a small kiss.

"Oh, Regina?" he told her towards the end – the plates were almost empty, and she was feeling satiated and content (at least about _one_ of her needs).

"Mmh?" she asked wordlessly.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he smiled. Oh, _shit_ – he was right, it was the 14th. She moved to face him, and found two very amused blue eyes staring at her.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you," she answered, exchanging the smile. She had never liked this day too much – too sappy, too stupidly fake for her liking – but there was a certain _something_ , when you got to celebrate it with the right person. She nuzzled his nose, and her smile didn't falter – it widened, as Robin gave her a short but deep kiss.

 _Definitely worth celebrating_.

.

They giggled like two schoolkids as they climbed up the stairs to her room. He was bringing the pastries in one hand, holding her hand with the other, and she had a bottle of wine stolen from Granny's supplies – she made a mental note to go and buy a new one, during one of the following days.

"Are we alone, apart from Ruby?" he whispered, as they reached the end of the corridor.

"Yes," she answered. Robin pushed her door with one foot, but it didn't unlock, so she sighed and cradled the bottle like a newborn, leaving his hand to push down the handle.

She turned to face him, motioning towards the inside with a smile. "Come in," she said, following him in the room and flicking the lights on. While he placed the tray down on her desk, she quickly lit the candles that Ruby's mother had left there from her previous stay.

"I don't have the proper glasses, I'm afraid," she told him, looking around. "But I think… ah, yes – " she still had some plastic glasses from some days before. "Do you want to do the honors?"

She held him the glasses, while he popped the bottle open, letting the liquid flow. "It's _Moscato_ ," she whispered. "I owe Granny a good bottle."

"Oh well," he smiled, "when the cat's away…"

"…I certainly hope you plan to _play_ a bit, yes," she lifted the glass as he replaced the bottle down on the desk. "To what do we toast?"

"To beautiful jealousy, my sweet," he answered. Regina shook her head, but brought her glass to metaphorically clink against his. Right after she drank the last sip, he was staring at her intently.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, but cradled her cheek, and she was lured to look at his eyes. She swam into the blue, waiting to see what he was going to do. He neared her, but then he surprised her kissing her forehead instead of her lips. She felt his lips press on her skin for a long moment. Inhaling his scent, she pressed her nose against his sweater, and sighed.

"Another round?"

"Why, yes," she agreed. This time, she sat on the bed, and he went to sit next to her, pouring the second dose of wine into her glass. "Thanks," she said. "To secret sisters."

He chuckled, lifting his glass, and he was still smiling as he drank. She slid a hand towards the tray, taking a small pastry. He watched her, and opened slightly his mouth as she lifted it to his lips, but then she smiled and ate it in a single gulp. They ended up doing two or three more rounds, emptying a good portion of the bottle and the tray, until he was kissing her, and he tasted like wine and cream and strawberries.

"You feel amazing," she murmured against his mouth. They were still sitting, but she knew it wasn't going to last long. The kiss grew heated, she reveled in the feeling of his hand between her hair – he really liked her hair, especially when she was wearing it down – and his other hand on hers, toying with her fingers. She felt her palm sweat, pressing it against his, and tugged at the collar of his shirt. Her fingers sneaked towards his chest, unfastening the first button.

Robin's hand had gone down, equally eager to get her undressed. The question was, who was going to reach their aim first. She tugged at his hair, eliciting a low groan, and pressed her thigh against his – thankfully, she hadn't had time to switch her jeans for her sweatpants yet, so although her sweater wasn't the sexiest thing she owned, at least she was better covered on the legs. The seam of her jeans was pressing uncomfortably against her clit – she could already feel her panties getting slippery, and if she had been wet before dinner, she couldn't imagine how she was right now.

Regina tried to rub her thighs together, to get some pressure _there_ , to relieve at least a small part of her… needs, but he noticed almost immediately, and of course he grinned, and his hand went down, down, just to that point, and began rubbing slowly. "Perhaps I can help you?" he asked, with that cocky smile she liked so much.

"You'll better," she said, in a jokingly stern tone. "But I'm far too overdressed for you to do anything…"

He didn't answer, because he had already captured her mouth in another kiss, but this time, his fingers were working on her sweater, pushing it down. It ended on the floor, along with her black shirt underneath, socks, and his shirt, all rumpled. The little pile of clothes started growing – he tugged at her jeans, but she wanted him to lose his first. So Regina cupped his cheeks, pushing him down towards the mattress, straddling him, and she could tell he was very much enjoying the sight of her lacey bra.

(That was one of Mal's rules – no matter if your man has enraged you, always treat yourself and wear the best lingerie you own.)

"Regina, please," he said, as if he was surrendering – she smiled, at that, her hair bobbing free just past her shoulders, her hands splayed on his chest.

"Please what?" she asked wickedly, even if she knew exactly what he wanted.

He groaned, squirming under her – she felt his trapped hardness against herself, and started grinding gently, even if they both still had their trousers. Up and down, slowly, until he was capturing her wrists in a steely grip, biting his lip, and moaning _Jesus Christ, Regina, I don't –_

But she didn't let him finish, because she crashed her lips down on his, silencing his protests. Her wiggling became quicker, steadier; she found a rhythm, enjoying the small and delicious dose of power that comes from torturing a man in the best of ways. She bit his lips, lightly, his eyes were closed, and his trousers against hers harder than ever.

"Do you want me to take care of that?" she murmured, causing his throat to let out a weird sound between _Yes_ and _Oh, God_ – she smirked, nearing her lips to his ear. "Undress me," she said, almost ordered, but he seemed turned on by her tone, because he lifted up, sitting straight on the mattress, and placed his hand on her waist, then one hand moved to unbutton her jeans.

She kissed his neck while he worked there, muttering _At least it's better than with your ball gown_ , and she laughed against his skin. The fabric went down quite easily, his hand cupping the curve of her ass, sliding between the trousers and her panties, and pushing down.

She lifted a bit to let him free her, but it wasn't quite working. So she had to leave the warmth of his lap to stand, and now her jeans got off easily. She pushed them aside, on the floor, next to the other clothes, and stood up for a moment, basking in the sight of pure lust on his face.

"Your turn," she lifted her chin, motioning at his trousers. He didn't stand up, but struggled against the fabric directly from the bed. Of course, he wasn't wearing skinny jeans, so it was rather simple for him.

The floor gathered another piece of clothing, and soon Regina was sitting next to him again. He circled her waist, drawing her towards him. His hand was behind her neck, and she knew he was going to kiss her again, but she currently had other plans. "Lie down," she instructed. He threw her a confused look – oh, so he didn't believe she would do what she was planning to do – _better for me_ , she thought, pushing him gently. She tugged at the elastic of his boxers, her hand passing right there, feeling his hardness. He gulped, then, because he finally got what she was about to do.

"Oh, love, you don't have to –" he started, but she lifted a finger to her lips.

"I want to," she answered, all serious. The fabric covering him went down too, leaving him almost naked, and he was quick to get rid of it, with a little help from her hand. When she started pumping, he closed his eyes, her hand circling him, and she watched his face, the low sound of pleasure he made.

"Remember, we are not alone," she said. "You'll have to keep it extra quiet."

Then, as if she wanted to test his limits, she lowered herself down, taking him into her mouth. "Oh, fuck," he said though gritted teeth. Regina thought she would have laughed, had she not been in that position. She lifted her lips for a moment, just to say _Keep quiet_ again, and then took it again all the way down, circling it with her tongue. His hand went between her hair, but left that place almost instantaneously to go grip the pillow.

"Fuck – _Regina_ – ah, yes –" he muttered. "Like that, love…"

She kept her pace, not too quick or too slow, but rhythmic, lapping and sucking, drawing circles. She felt him react to her touch, to her hand on his skin, and that gave her a good sensation, her own insides throbbing and aching for his touch. She swirled her tongue on his tip, as he murmured _Fucking goddess_ against the pillow – the fact he was forced to repress his moans not to be heard made her bolder, as she gave him a particular suck…

"R-Regina – if you keep doing that – I'm going to…"

She couldn't nod, so she brought up a hand to his hip and squeezed in agreement, without leaving him, ever – she tasted his semen, when he couldn't resist anymore, cleaned up his tip with a last swirl, and swallowed the remnants as he collapsed on the sheets. All of her blankets were now pushed aside by their movements, half on the ground, half on the chair. She crawled towards him, bringing up a hand to her mouth and wiping it clean.

He was smiling at her, with that idiotic expression of an ecstatic man. "That was… amazing, love," he told her, his hand cradling her cheek. "Thank you."

"Happy Valentine's Day," she answered, going to lie next to him. They stood still for a moment, just the time to recover from their last exertion.

Then, Robin went to sit, and she watched him, puzzled. "What is it?"

He turned his head to watch her (and what a phenomenal vision she must have been, splayed on the mattress and half naked) and told her, "I told you I wanted _you_ for dessert, my sweet."

She shivered, at that, shivers of the pleasure that was coming her way already buzzing through her core. His hand pushed her panties aside, but didn't lower them. Instead, he slid one finger down to her wetness, and smirked. She lifted an eyebrow, and said "Yeah, it's like that since quite a while."

"Oh, we must find a solution, then," he replied, juggling down her panties, until they reached her ankles, and lifted gently her feet to free her. "Spread your legs, please," he told her. She complied instantly, smiling at him, but she paled when he let out a laugh and said "Now let's see if you can keep it quiet."

 _Oh shit_.

She already knew she wasn't going to, so she fisted the sheets, the pillow, already feeling his fingers between her legs, pumping once or twice – not that she needed it, she was wet as fuck since their dinner.

"Oh, Regina? Not a sound," he warned her, before lowering his head between her thighs. When his tongue found her clit, the first moan escaped her, but she bit her lower lip hard, closing her eyes, focusing on him, on his skilled ability to make her quiver after a few seconds.

"R-Robin, please," she groaned, drops of sweat running down her neck to her spine. She was so turned on already, that it wasn't going to take long, she knew it. He added his fingers, giving her the pressure she needed, stroking her right there with firm circles. She knew he didn't know whether to watch her come or to continue eating her out, _oh fuck_ , and his indecision was going to cost her dignity, because if she couldn't scream, then –

Her feet pushed on the mattress, toes curling, "Yes!" she said, frantically, "Yes, _please_ , right there, _more_ –"

He wasn't holding back, and he gave her a last strong suck at her clit before lifting his head to watch her, his fingers quickened their pace. She threw back her head, opened her eyes, she stared at the ceiling without seeing it. The current of pleasure was too much, and he kept saying her things, _Come for me, love, you are so beautiful, let go_ – her mouth opened too, in an instinctive reflex, her knees shaking, her belly lifting towards his fingers. And finally, finally, she rode out her orgasm, Robin stroke her until she couldn't take it anymore, until the pleasure was too much, she pushed aside his fingers, and her legs fell down from their bended position, splaying open. She breathed heavily, trying to emerge from her black out.

She was only slightly aware of Robin's lips kissing her there, kissing her scar, reverently, then kissing her lips, where she tasted herself.

They lied together for a while, listening to the other's breaths, and feasting in their new-found connection.

§§§

If there was one sensation he loved, it was being wrapped around Regina's naked, warm body, in the quiet moments that followed their sexual encounters. (And this was just the second one. How could he be so addicted to this feeling already? How could it be that he didn't want this feeling to stop? If he could have chosen a moment to die, it would have been this one.)

She shifted in his arms, and the coldness of her fingers made him repress a shiver. Thankfully, he spotted the blankets they had removed before, perched on the chair near her desk. They slid easily over their bodies, and he felt Regina sigh contently and settling more comfortably. He was spooning her, and couldn't see her face, but only hold her.

He started tracing paths on her forearm, with his hand, sleepiness washing all over him like a cascade of warmth and relaxed, slow breaths.

"It happened in a car crash."

Regina spoke quietly, so low he wasn't sure to have actually heard her.

"When… Daniel died, he was driving," she said. He noticed she'd started brushing over his skin with her fingers. He stayed silent, not wanting to interrupt her. He wanted to give her the chance to open herself up to him, because there still were a lot of things they didn't know of each other. So, he just squeezed lightly her arm, to make her understand he was listening.

"Another man was driving on the other side of the road… he was drunk," she continued. "I… I was sitting on the backseat, because – it's stupid, but when we left home, Daniel told me to seat there so he could be my personal chauffeur, like in a taxi or a limousine, and I just… laughed, and told him _Okay, fine_ ," her last words exited in a mere whisper. Robin could tell she was hurting, but he hoped this story was also cathartic in some way.

"So the drunk driver hit the car… and both cars stopped, because they both managed to brake, but it was too late – our front seat was completely crashed… they told me the other man died instantaneously, but Daniel didn't," she murmured. "I had time to crawl there, and listen to his final words while the ambulance arrived."

She stood silent for a moment, probably reviving Daniel's last minutes, then started talking again. "I have two things to remember him. My ring…" she made it turn around her finger, in a spontaneous reflex. "My ring, and my scar. They told me I was lucky to be alive, that… had I been in the front seat, I would have died too…" she rested her head on his chest. He listened to her slow breaths, thanking all the stars that he was, indeed, getting the marvelous chance to hold her in his arms, alive and breathing and beautiful.

He felt the wetness of a tear on his skin, and dropped a kiss on her hair, knowing that words wouldn't have been such a comfort in that situation.

"I didn't feel lucky," she continued, her voice steady despite the crying. "Because we… were about to marry, and I lost one of the most important persons of my life in the blink of an eye... and I haven't told you the best part," she said in an almost-chuckle, too sarcastic to be really amused. "That day, we… were going to a place, in Boston… to meet our adoptive son for the first time."

Robin heard her voice crack on the last sentence, and opened his mouth to say something – what, he didn't know exactly, but she beat him to it. "Of course, after the accident –it changed it all, I suddenly was… well, not a widow, but… I believe they said _Not fit to raise a child on her own_ ," she said. "And… they were right, I think. I was a mess… I couldn't…"

Her voice definitely broke, and he held her tighter while she cried. "Regina…" he tempted, closing his eyes and taking a breath. He didn't know what to say – he didn't want to say a lame sentence like _I'm sorry for you_ , because the word _sorry_ couldn't even start to describe the profound ache he was feeling in that moment. "Thank you for telling me this," he said instead, placing his lips on her hair, caressing it with the hand that wasn't occupied holding her.

They stayed like that for a while, until her shaky sobs subsided into slower breaths. She never lifted her eyes to meet his, but he knew that just the thought of having someone to hold her, a warm presence who wanted to understand her, could have done miracles for her soul. He continued listening to her breathing, until he finally knew she was asleep.

He stayed still, reveling in the fact that she was there. He whispered against her hair, before falling asleep too. _I've got you now, and I won't let you go._


End file.
